Disclaimer in part one.  If you're missing parts,
visit: http://members.aol.com/shippergrl/truth.txt

The Truth
part 9
by eponine119  & Jessica Zyvarek Taylor
eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu


 Mulder led her directly to the main ballroom of the
 ship.  She
wondered how he'd known where it was, but decided it
was better not to ask. "Are you sure we're dressed
right for this, Mulder?" she asked, hoping she sounded
like she was joking as she pulled back on his hand. 
She wasn't.  She didn't want to ballroom dance.
Somehow those tall, thin, forbidding looking women in
their severe costumes with their ability to do amazing
things with their bodies scared her.  The thought of
having to attempt that herself really scared her.  She
was athletic enough; she could chase down suspects,
kick a man's ass to save herself, and shoot
accurately...but dance?  No way.
 She looked at Mulder. He looked like a kid standing
 outside the
admission gate of the circus, waiting for his mom to
hand him his ticket so he could go inside and see the
poor abused animals and freaks inside.  She knew there
was no way she was going to convince him that he
really would rather go pretend he was on a talk show
and join strangers in yelling and screaming about the
way their lives were ruined.  Cringing, she followed
him inside.
 "Take off your shoes!" cried the female ballroom
 dance instructor,
who was wearing one of those outfits that intimidated
Scully so much.  She had on a black, low-cut leotard
with long sleeves that would have fallen over Scully's
knuckles if she'd even tried to wear it.  Around her
waist was draped a long, floaty black skirt.  Black
hair was pulled back into a bun, and she had a scarlet
flower pinned behind her ear.  Scully looked at
Mulder, but he was eagerly following orders.  She
looked back at the instructor, who had joined her
partner.  He was dressed like a gigolo, which was
pretty much in keeping with the stupid costumes men
had to wear for these things.
 Looking at Mulder again, she wondered if that was the
 appeal of
ballroom dancing to him. Did he have some secret
yearning to leap around in a feminine costume?  God,
she hoped not.  She'd just spent the night curled
around this man.  Trying to picture him dressed like
Zorro, the Gay Blade was making her physically ill. 
Still bent down from taking off his shoes, he raised
his head.  She managed to smile.  Then he dug into her
shoelaces.
 "Mulder!" she cried.
 "What?" he grinned up at her.
 "I can do that!"
 "It's okay, I don't mind," he told her, unlacing the
 sneaker and raising
her foot to remove it and then turning to the other
foot.  She was glad she'd put on the socks without
holes in them.  It would ruin her credibility if he
found out even the fastidious Dana Scully sometimes
wore socks with holes.
 Setting aside her other shoe, he straightened himself
 back up.  It
seemed to her that he just kept going.  Now he was
going to find out just how bad an idea this was, she
thought, looking up at him.  She was five foot two. He
was over six feet.  She waited for people to laugh at
them as the instructor gave her first order and Mulder
took her into his arms.  Dance was all about
appearance; that was why those silly young girls
dieted themselves into oblivion.  Ballroom dancing was
about the way two bodies moved together. The fact that
she was doing something that was meant to be observed
made her incredibly self-conscious.
 "Your face is red," Mulder noted, looking at her as
 he positioned his
arm around her waist and then threaded the fingers of
his other hand through hers.
 "I hate dancing," she admitted.
 "We were dancing last night," he mentioned.
 "That was different."
 "How?" he asked, but she couldn't answer.  They had
 begun to move
and she had way too much to worry about with looking
at her feet and muttering "one-two-three,
one-two-three" under her breath.
 She remembered something she'd once heard that Ginger
 Rogers had
said about dancing with Fred Astaire.  "Everything he
does, I have to do backwards, in high heels."  Scully
had the heel problem down, but the backwards thing was
a problem.  Mulder just kept moving forward.  Which
meant her duty was to keep moving her feet back, out
of the reach of his toes, and let that take her in
whatever direction he wanted her to go.  She didn't
like that.  She didn't like feeling like she was being
shoved around in some meaningless little circle by
some man, even if it was Mulder and when she glanced
up at him, risking the future health of her toes for
all time, he was smiling.  She managed to look down
again in time to see him moving his foot again and
jerk back.
 She'd been listening to the teacher, too.  She now
 understood the
concept of when to go forward and when to go sideways.
 She kind of wished there was a footprint diagram on
the floor, like in the cartoons of her youth. She'd
always thought those were cool.  Scully began to try
to take control of this situation.  Every once in a
while, she'd initiate the sideways or forward step. 
It caught Mulder off guard, so he'd move backwards. 
After a while, she was in charge and she liked it!  It
was even kinda fun.
 That was when the instructor happened by.  "You're
 leading," she said
in a dour tone to Scully. It was just the kind of flat
voice you'd expect a snooty dancer to have.  Bet she
gets along real well with the perky types, Scully
thought. Bet she's always sitting alone at dinner. 
But Scully stopped leading immediately and returned to
meekly following Mulder.  She was embarrassed to have
been accused of doing such a masculine thing.  That
was her problem with dancing.  Well, one of them.  She
didn't feel girlish enough to do it.   If someone made
her put on one of those outfits, she'd feel ridiculous
and irritated.
 "Okay, now the tango!" cried the instructor.
 For a moment, Mulder released her. Scully let out a
 deep breath now
that he wasn't touching her and felt herself relax. 
She hadn't even been able to enjoy the fact that he
had been touching her because she'd been too caught up
in the agony of being made to do something that she
should never be made to do.  She looked at Mulder and
he held her look for a moment.  He was enjoying
himself, she thought. That was what counted.  Maybe
she'd do better at the tango.  How hard could it be?
 To her dismay, it turned out that there was more to
 tangoing than there
appeared.  Scully had been remembering scenes she'd
seen as a child, and the way she and Billy had laughed
as they acted them out in the living room, essentially
holding their arms out in front of them and zooming
from one end of the room as fast as they could and
then collapsing into giggles.  Sometimes her brother
would throw in a dip and let her fall on the floor. 
Then he'd laugh hysterically and she'd sit there
ignoring the pain in her head/shoulder/arm and trying
not to cry.
 Bill sure was an asshole to me, she thought,
 frowning. "Closer!" cried the instructor, who planted
 her hands on Scully's
behind and pushed her against Mulder.  Mulder smiled.
Scully turned her head to look at the woman, who had
walked away to torment another couple. Mulder took her
hand, and held it out like a pointer in the direction
they were going.  At least there wasn't a leading
thing involved, Scully thought.
 Until they started to move to the heavy music.  The
 dancerwoman
hadn't told Scully how to count, or what to count up
to, so she didn't know what she was doing.  Scully
also realized it was a lot harder to walk sideways
while pressed full frontally against a solid, gorgeous
man who happened to be a foot taller.  Their feet kept
tangling and Scully started to feel worse and worse as
she contemplated the term "cheek to cheek" and the
fact that she'd have to be dancing with Frohike to
experience it.
 She did her best and followed along without really
 thinking about it. 
When the instructor finally shut off that music and
commanded their attention, Scully sighed and wondered
what the next thing would be.
 The woman was giving a demonstration.  The pretty boy
 partner
helped this time.  It was swing dancing, which had
been featured in several movies and always looked like
fun to Scully, with its energetic steps and the way
the boys sometimes tossed the girls over their heads,
exposing layers of crinolines to the camera. It looked
spunky and free.  It looked like a dance you could do
for exercise.
 It didn't look fun when the sour faced pair in black
 did it.  Scully
watched their feet flying as though possessed until
the inevitable moment came.  The high priestess of
dance turned to her adoring audience of students and
said, "Now you do it."
 Scully's mind was blank on how to even attempt
 anything she'd just
seen.  She was aware of Mulder looking at her.  She
was also aware the couples around her all began to
move like they had been swing dancing their entire
freaking lives.  Maybe they had.  But she hadn't. 
Scully felt all trembly, like she'd been shoved onto
the stage and didn't know the lines she was supposed
to say.  She put her head down and walked to the door.
 She grabbed her shoes on the way out.
 The warm sea air hit her like a fan and she inhaled
 its wonderful salty
scent.  What were all those people doing in a dimly
lit ballroom when there was such beauty outside?  Her
shoes still in her hand, she walked to the railing and
looked down at the deep blue ocean. It wasn't that
sickly green-brown color you saw at the beach.  There
were no horrid dead strands of kelp or seaweed to wrap
around your ankles, bringing toxic waste and discarded
needles.  There was just blue, intense, all the way to
the ocean floor, as far as the eye could see, with
white crests where the strong line of the ship parted
it, throwing salt water spray into her hair and onto
her skin.  She licked her lips and tasted the salt and
grinned.
 "I'm sorry,"  Mulder said beside her.  She hadn't
 realized he'd followed
her until he spoke.  She turned her head and looked at
him and almost laughed. His knuckles were almost white
on the railing and he was turned as far away from the
water as possible.
 "Don't be," she shrugged easily, that calmed by the
 sea. "No, I am. The difference between the way you
 looked in there and the
way you look out here is stunning."
 "The same could be said of you, Mulder," she pointed
 out with an
amused smile. Had she looked like that in the
ballroom?  Like she was terrified and uncomfortable
and cranky?  Mulder looked like a kid in the doctor's
office with his pants around his ankles, knowing the
needle was coming and there was nothing he could do.
 What an image, Scully thought, glancing at her
 partner and picturing
him with his pants down and...She stopped herself.  No
odd doctor/patient fantasies about your partner, she
thought.  They'd even had a teacher who tried to cover
that in med school - that some patients found the
dominance of medical care exciting just as some
doctors found the power thrilling.  Scully'd thought
it was sick then.  She supposed it was still sick and
that was why she didn't want to be thinking it.
 She licked her lips again.  She always got a kick out
 of the way the salt
built up. She remembered the way that when her father
came home after a voyage, he would taste of salt for
days when she kissed his cheek when he came to tuck
her into bed.  The smell of it would permeate him, his
clothes and his hair.  Sometimes it seemed that his
eyes took on the color and the quality of the sea. 
She'd tried to tell her sister once and was told
disdainfully she had a weird imagination. But her
mother had said she understood. That Dana would love a
man of the sea.
 And here she was with a man who couldn't even look at
 the sea. Mulder's hair was getting damp, and Scully
 unconsciously reached up
to run a hand through her own.  It was damp, as well,
and she could feel it beginning to frizz and curl. 
She hated it when it did that.  She thought the
annoyance must have shown on her face because Mulder
was suddenly smiling at her.  Twisted man, she
thought, but she smiled back.
 Touching her hair had drawn Mulder's gaze to it and
 he saw that it was
beginning to fluff up attractively.  Something about
it, paired with the shorts and the sweatshirt she was
wearing and the way she still held her sneakers in her
hand made her so attractive to him suddenly.  Because
nothing about her reminded him of their work.  At that
moment, the darkness was completely behind them and
they were free.  To be in love.  To feel.  To laugh
and play if they wanted to.  Scully losing control
over the natural wave to her hair - which he thought
was beautiful and couldn't imagine why she'd torture
it straight - symbolized so much that he couldn't even
put words to.  He'd only seen her that way a very few
times, vulnerable.  Approachable.  When she threw
herself into his arms that night in the motel after
being drenched in the rain. When she was in the
hospital with better things to worry over...
 Mulder threaded his fingers through her hair and
 Scully looked at him,
wondering what he was doing.  The pads of his fingers
caressed her scalp and she sighed deeply.  She tilted
her head up and found herself staring at his lips.
Because she hoped this was a prelude to him kissing
her.  Because she wanted to kiss him now, when he had
sea salt on his skin that she could taste and lick
away.  As though pulled by magnetic force, they were
moving slowly towards one another.  Scully closed her
eyes and put one hand on his shoulder to steady
herself.
 "Hey!  We were looking for you!"
 Scully's eyes opened and she groaned.  Mulder's hands
 clenched with
consciousness of his anger at being interrupted, but
he didn't realize he still had a section of her hair
in his fist.
 "You have a mandatory couples counseling session to
 complete.  And I
know you don't want to have to miss our exciting plans
for this evening and this afternoon!"  It was Matt
giving them these orders.  "Helen is waiting for you."
 Great, thought Mulder.  She's named after a woman who
 caused the
worst war in Ancient Greece because she was unfaithful
to her husband, and she's going to give us martial
counseling.
 Great, thought Scully when they reached the small
 chamber, which
was virtually identical to the one Theresa had
occupied the night before. Helen was beautiful.  She
had long cascades of impossibly beautiful blond hair. 
Her eyes were bright and wide and blue and both her
nose and her red bow mouth were as perfect as if they
had been chiseled in stone.  Or plastic, Scully
realized, frowning as she discovered just who it was
Helen reminded her of.  She was a complete ringer for
Mattel's Barbie.
 Scully glanced at Mulder, wondering if his head was
 also now filled
with the lyrics, "I'm a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie
World..."  But he looked slightly enraptured of Helen.
 So she guessed he wasn't thinking what she was.  Or
maybe he was, on some deeper level that had been
programmed by society.
 "Since this is our last day of counseling," Helen
 began and Scully
could barely keep from laughing.  Helen didn't have a
squeaky blond voice like Minnie Mouse, or the
perfectly modulated tones Barbie used when she
proclaimed, "Math is hard!" to a generation of girls
awaiting brainwashing. Helen had a voice so deep
Scully imagined she could sing bass.  Helen sounded
like she had a fourteen pack a day tobacco habit.  The
juxtaposition was ridiculous.  Scully looked at
Mulder. His expression hadn't changed.  He probably
thinks she sounds like Demi Moore, Scully thought,
crossing her legs and then her arms.  Helen continued,
"I want to take you through an exercise that will open
the lines of communication and give you something on
which to build your married lives."
 More touch therapy? Scully thought hopefully.
 "I want you to describe the perfect day."  Because
 Mulder was staring
at Helen, she turned to him and smiled. "You first."
 Called upon, Mulder tore his eyes away and sat up. "I
 don't know," he
said, looking embarrassed.
 "You do; you just don't want to share it," Helen
 coaxed.  Scully let her
arms fall to her sides as she turned to look at
Mulder. This she wanted to hear.
 "No, I've never given it any thought," Mulder
 protested.  He was too
embarrassed for that to be true, Scully thought.
 "No?" Helen challenged in that gentle tone that
 purposely betrayed
that she didn't believe him either.
 "Look, I had a really unhappy childhood and I don't
 watch that much
TV, so I really have no idea what it's like being
married, okay?" Mulder snapped.  His body closed him
off from the rest of the room, angrily adding, "So
leave me alone!" to his statement.
 "It's okay," Helen said gently, using the same tone
 as she would use to
talk a terrified kitten out of a tree.  Scully began
to think about it and wonder why Mulder seemed so
scared.  Maybe his sarcastic words had been more
revealing than he'd meant.  Was he afraid of marriage
because of his parents? she wondered, not realizing
she had become completely sucked in by this. Helen
went on soothingly, "Most people have no idea what
it's like to be married.  That's why beginning a life
with another person is such a stressful event, even
though it's happy. It's an enormous change. That's the
purpose of this exercise.  You're safe here," Helen
promised.  "I won't judge you. And neither will your
wife."
 Mulder started when Helen referred to Scully as his
 "wife." Maybe
that's what he's afraid of, Scully thought bitterly. 
He's afraid of me.
 "How does it begin?" Helen prompted.
 "I wake up."
 "How do you wake up?"
 "That's kind of - uh - personal -"  His eyes darted
 to Scully's face and
bounced off when he saw that she was looking at him.
 Helen smiled understandingly.  "I see in your file
 that your wife is a
physician.  I'm sure it will come as no surprise to
her that many men begin their day by waking in a state
of arousal. Is that what you're trying to say, Fox?"
 He frowned and waited for Scully to giggle.  He
 looked at her and her
eyes were clear; no trace of laughter. He looked down,
but then realized he didn't really want to be looking
at his lap at this moment, so he looked at the picture
of the dying flowers in a vase that was on the wall. 
"Uh, yeah," he muttered, almost inaudibly.  "But she,
uh, you know, doesn't have to -"  He stopped and let
out a hard breath.  Helen didn't interrupt again.  So
he forced himself to go on.  "So anyway, I take a
shower and brush my teeth and get dressed and get
ready for the day."
 "And where is Dana, Fox? Is she still sleeping? Has
 she already left for
work?" Helen asked.
 "She...well...she's eating breakfast.  Since I don't
 eat breakfast, I don't
join her.  But she slips into the bathroom while I'm
in there to brush her teeth. And she ends up noticing
that I haven't shaved yet. I don't shave in the shower
because I know it clogs up the drain and she hates
that.  So she ends up sitting on the counter, and I'm
standing between her legs and she...she shaves me."
 Scully's heart was pounding and she couldn't breathe.
  What about this
was making her so incredibly hot?  Was it the
self-conscious honesty in his tone, or the fact that
he was saying this in front of her even though he
didn't really want to?  Or was it because she could
see it, so real she could almost feel it, and she
wanted to be there?  Mulder looked at her again and
this time she was the one who looked away.
 "So anyway, I go to work and I get home and it's late
 and I turn on the
TV for noise and the lamp and pull out some books to
do some research and if I'm really lucky the game is
on."
 "Where is Dana?" Helen prompted again.
 The look on his face was surprised.  She's at home at
 her house, he
thought, but then realized he wasn't playing the game.
He was describing an evening at his house the way
things were now.  Because he couldn't imagine a life
with Scully.  He couldn't imagine her putting up with
him.  She hadn't even wanted to look at him after he
included his shaving fantasy.  "She - um - she's
sitting at the computer.  Typing.  Her report."
 My report to Them about him, Scully thought and the
 pain in her chest
was intense.
 "But I'm restless and I know that I'll disturb her,
 so I go out and pick
up dinner. It's Chinese takeout.  She doesn't even
notice I'm gone, so when I get back with the dinner,
it surprises her.  And she smiles.  We sit down on the
floor and eat it while watching those paranormal type
shows they have on the Fox network and drink just the
right kind of beer that goes with Chinese food."
 This is a fantasy, Scully thought, since she wasn't
 sure beer went with
Chinese food.
 "But then, you know, the shows go off and dinner's
 over, so I pick up
all the little containers and put them in the trash. 
She's not all that interested in finishing her report
now, but I have about twenty books to look through
before work tomorrow.  Since she takes care of
herself, she goes to bed. Maybe she tells me not to
stay up too late.  And I sit back down on the couch
and turn the TV off so it won't keep her awake and
start reading the books. About three or four in the
morning, I probably fall asleep on the couch with my
face in one of the books."  Mulder finished and felt
like he should add "ta- da!" to indicate that he was
finished, because neither of the women moved or said
something. 
 Helen was frowning and Mulder assumed that meant he'd
 screwed up
royally. Well, he'd warned her, he thought.  He looked
at Scully and thought he saw tears in her eyes.  He'd
really fucked it up then, he thought, and sat
miserably waiting for Helen to pass judgment on him.
 "You have low self-esteem, don't you?" Helen said
 gently to Mulder. "No," he said stubbornly. Helen
 nodded.  "I can see it and so can your wife, even if
 you can't,"
she told him.  Mulder looked at Scully and then closed
his eyes. He didn't want those tears to be there
because she pitied him, damn it!  He didn't want that.
 But he said nothing.  "In this fantasy, you ask
nothing of her.  And you expect nothing from her in
return.  The two of you don't make love.  The only
thing you do together is have dinner, and you go out
and get it for her.  To me, it sounds more like the
troubled marriage of two individuals who have grown so
far apart they don't even speak to each other any
more.  I don't think this is your ideal day, Mr.
Mulder.  I think you're too afraid of loss and hoping
to even imagine a perfect day.  I can recommend a good
therapist in your area, and I think you should try to
work some of these issues out."
 Mulder swallowed hard and accepted the sheet of paper
 Helen wrote
the shrink's name on.  He wasn't going to go. But he
wasn't going to fight, not now. He felt too exposed.
 "Dana?" Helen asked. Mulder tried to relax but he
 didn't know what
Scully would say, so he couldn't.
 Her voice was low and breathy as she started to
 speak. She barely
sounded like Scully.  "We would wake up together and
he would be holding me.  He wouldn't want to get up,
but I'd make him, and we'd fight and get in each
other's way in the bathroom, but we'd laugh about it. 
We'd eat breakfast together and then go to work."
 Scully looked at Helen, seeking approval. She knew
 she was being too
boring and she felt like she was talking too quickly. 
She wasn't doing this for Helen's approval, was she,
she realized, and looked directly at Mulder.  He
looked down, but she continued to directly address
him.  "At work, my partner would surprise me with a
new matter to look into.  He might demonstrate the
finer points by using slides or an overhead projector.
 He would suggest some crazy, insane theory on what
was causing the problem, and I'd get called into a
meeting, and I'd be glad because it would give me a
little time to think of a rational explanation for
him.  The meeting would turn out to be my boss
commending me on a job well done, rather than scowling
and pointing out every typographical error and smear
on his copy of my report.  On the way back, I might
stop by the lab and say hi to the boys there while I
pick up samples that turn out to be something that
will blow my partner's mind.  I'll tell him my new
scientific explanation, but we'll have to go and check
things out anyway.  Since this is a perfect day, he
lets me drive. In fact, he's such a gentleman that in
anticipation of letting me drive, he moved the seat
forward that morning when he got out of the car.  We
interview some witnesses and I do an autopsy on the
body and he doesn't get grossed out and leave. He
stays and watches - or if he doesn't watch, maybe he
faces away and we talk.  Under no circumstances does
he say I should go do something, leaving me to ask,
'What're you going to do?'"
 "Dana, this is very interesting, but we're discussing
 your married life,"
Helen interrupted.  Scully smiled. Helen didn't know
they worked together. Mulder had the faintest smile on
his face.  Amused.  He understood every word she was
saying.
 "So after this wonderful day of working in absolute
 harmony with my
partner, I go home.  We have dinner and talk.  It's a
simple dinner, maybe just some vegetables and a lean
cut of chicken or something, but there's candlelight
and wine.  And since I just started this case, I don't
have any reports to write about it.  Miraculously, all
of the scientific journals I haven't had time to read
are read, so my evening is entirely free.  So is his. 
We light a fire and spread out in the living room and
play trivial pursuit by firelight. It's a gas log
because he doesn't feel safe around fire.  We have a
dog and it comes over to nibble on Mulder's toes and
he screams, but he's kidding.  He says it's an ugly
rat, but I know he's joking because it's my dog and he
loves it because he loves me.  I beat him at Trivial
Pursuit.  This means he has to do my will. My will is
that he draws my bath.  Of course he joins me in it,
and this sends water splashing all over the floor but
it doesn't matter, since it's only water and it'll dry
so we don't have to clean it up.  We go to bed, still
laughing and talking, and we make love and I fall
asleep in his arms."
 With no more words to say, Scully felt odd.  While
 she'd been talking,
she'd been able to see it all happening.  Now that she
stopped, it seemed like a silly fantasy.  She didn't
want to know what Helen thought it meant.  She really
didn't want to know what Mulder thought of it.
 "You're idealistic about marriage," Helen told
 Scully.  "Your parents
had a good marriage, one that as a child you idolized.
 Your perfect day sounds almost like a modern fairy
tale of good feelings. It could occur just as easily
in a castle as in your house.  You have issues with
being in control - you have to win the game, he loves
your dog, he does what you want.  The fantasy element
is that here is a man with no will - he's like Prince
Charming without a name or a line of dialogue.  When
you do talk, you laugh, it's witty, like the fantasy
of a movie. There's no realism in this at all. Your
parents had to work at their perfect marriage, that's
a side that perhaps you never saw."
 Scully felt she was being chastised and she didn't
 like it.  She felt she
was being told her fantasy was wrong and stupid.
 "The most realistic part of the fantasy,
 interestingly," Helen went on,
"is your work day. Things happen that you can't
control.  Normal things happen. You describe a normal
day, only with things happening the way you wish they
would.  It's not uncommon for this to come out, since
you have been to work but you haven't been married
before, but I got the impression you like your 
partner better than you like your husband, which I
find rather...disconcerting."
 Scully thought she heard Mulder snort.
 "Overall, though, the two of you are complimentary
 since you are
polar opposites. His absolute realism paired with your
need for the fantastic should -"
 Neither Scully or Mulder heard anything Helen said
 after that. They
were both working too hard not to laugh.  Helen had
just said that Mulder was a realist and Scully dealt
in fantasy, when nothing could be further from the
truth!  They managed to hold onto their laughter until
they were released into the hallway, where they
collapsed against each other hysterically.
 The laughter faded quickly, though, and they were
 left touching. 
Helen's misdiagnosis didn't change the fact that they
had both been telling the truth in there.  And the
truth could sometimes be an uncomfortable thing,
especially for them.
 "Mulder, I -"
 "Scully, I -"
 They both stopped and smiled at each other.  But the
 moment and
whatever they had been about to share was lost when a
woman swathed in gypsy clothes seemed to appear out of
nowhere and swept down upon them. She grabbed Scully's
hand and said in a thick Slovakian accent, "Come, I
must tell the future."  Scully looked back at Mulder
and he followed as she was pulled into a dim room by
the strange woman.
 They were seated at a small table.   The woman pushed
 aside a crystal
ball and began to shuffle a pack of cards.  "You are
new married, yes?" she asked, looking at Scully's
ring.
 "Well -" said Mulder, because he wasn't sure it was a
 good idea to lie
to a psychic. It might do something terrible to your
karma or something.
 "Yes," Scully said, since she didn't believe in any
 of this anyway. The woman began to spread the cards
 out on the table in a formation. 
Scully saw that they were tarot cards and wondered not
for the first time how cards with pictures on them
were going to divine the future.  Mulder asked,
"Aren't we supposed to ask a question and then shuffle
the cards ourselves?"
 "What kind of psychic do you think I am?" demanded
 the woman. "I
ask question. I ask, what kind of marriage have you in
future."  Then she went "ooooooooh," as she looked at
the cards. Scully imagined they taught you to do that
in psychic school.  Did psychics go to school?  She
was sure she would have noticed "Card Reading and
Ooohing" in her class catalog in college.
 "What?" asked Mulder, and he actually grabbed
 Scully's hand like he
was tense and scared of that "ooh."  He knew better
than to believe this, Scully thought.
 "Temperance is the card of where you are now," said
 the psychic. 
"This card symbolizes the promise and renewal of a
relationship.  The gold and silver cups represent male
and female, conscious and unconscious, being joined in
feeling.  The polarity of water and earth in the card
reflects the power to unite opposites."  She looked at
them.  "This is a very good card to begin marriage on.
 The Fool will learn to have a balanced heart."
 Her wizened finger moved to point again.  "This card.
  Ten of Swords. 
It is what conflicts you.  We have - very interesting
- the ending of an ancient curse through the fairness
of Justice.  You two are in law enforcement, justice
department, right?" she asked and Scully could only
nod.  They had an ancient curse, too, didn't they -
Mulder's father's legacy in the Project.  "There was
no hope in sight.  And now freedom.  Warning: this is
not fairy tale happiness. This means work toward
progress of future."
 This was weird.  It was right.  Scully looked at
 Mulder and she could
see he was thinking the same thing.
 "Four of Pentacles. Your situation.  Reversed, so
 negative value. 
You're too attached to your position now.  You have to
let it go to move forward.  You have jealousy, low
self value. You keep this, it leads to loss."
 Mulder remembered Helen the shrink telling him he had
 low self
esteem.  And he thought of Scully's efforts to not
disturb the relationship they already had.
 The psychic continued.  "The Five of Wands is behind
 this situation. 
You have the completion of a creative idea. Maybe a
ruse."  She was looking at Mulder.  Did she know he'd
created this entire situation? he wondered. He knew
lying to a psychic was a bad idea.  "If you are going
to realize potential, you must work.  You see a theme
here yet? Potential. But work."
 "Your past," she said.  "Four of Wands.  Very dull. 
 Early reward from
this idea. You think you won.  Your friends helped you
with this.  Perhaps your boss.  You hope the early
success will continue.  You were getting somewhere in
the past...what happens?"
 "Your future is the Ace of Pentacles.  See this man?"
 she asked,
tapping the card. Mulder and Scully leaned in to look.
 "This is Poseidon. God of the Sea.  We are on a boat
now, no?  Very interesting you have water in your
future.  Is good because Poseidon is a fertility god."
 Mulder saw Scully wince.  "He is also husband of
Mother Earth.  You -"  The psychic looked at Scully. 
"You are very much Earth Mother type. The fall leaf
color hair.  You are mother type. To him and in
general.  You take care.  That future is Poseidon,
good husband to you, this looks good, no?"  Scully
remembered her mother saying the man for Dana would be
a man who loved the sea.  She felt sad because the
psychic seemed to agree - but Mulder hated the ocean. 
"Bad is, Poseidon is a force of nature.  Water. And we
are on the water. You must be very careful.  But could
be good.  The water has the energy need to make your
creative idea and ruse real."
 Scully looked at Mulder again. The woman seemed to
 know that they
were lying.  This was a little too on target for her
to dismiss out of hand and Scully wanted to dismiss
it, very much.
 "Okay.  Where you are.  Three of Swords.  You got
 your conflict in the
open.  Your heartbreak is revealed.   Much hurt.  But
this can bring the release from stagnant, nasty
tension.  You need this conflict to reach your good
end. Could be bad card.  Doesn't look so bad here."
 All the fighting, Scully thought.  All the mess ups,
 all the wrong things
said.  They could end in something good?  No, this was
a pyschic, she wasn't getting paid to tell them they
would have a terrible life together.
 "How others affect you.  Five of Swords. Reversed.
 Turned negative. 
You got to accept your limits.  And you have many.
Something about a family - a family inheritance.  You
seem self-sufficient, but your families are with you
always.  Has caused major problems and set back in
relationship.  You got lots of false pride, and lots
of fear coming from what has happened with these
family members, the legacies they have given.  You
must leave that behind."
 As she spoke, Mulder catalogued this as truth in his
 mind.  His sister.
His father.  Scully's sister.  They way his mother
treated him and hid the truth. The faint pressure he
always felt from Scully's mother.  Even the death of
Scully's father so early in their partnership.  The
way her brother hated him. Yes, they had a lot of
baggage, he thought.
 Oh, come on, everyone's heard of mother-in-law jokes,
 Scully thought.
The fact that she was working so hard to dismiss this
only spoke of how it affected her.
 "Nine of Pentacles is your hopes and fears.  You are
 both afraid of
yourself. You want satisfaction.  But you are afraid
to give.  There is much danger.  A dangerous venture.
Maybe this voyage was a dangerous venture. You will
have your reward. But you might have it alone."
 Chilling, they both thought.
 "Now.  The prize.  The moment you been waiting for. 
 The outcome!" 
The psychic's eyes danced until she looked at the
card.  "Oh. King of Cups. More water.  The water forms
the relationship.  The water can bring you together.
Maybe cruise is good, then, huh?  But maybe not. This
guy -" She tapped the card.  "He is a wounded healer. 
He helps others, but not himself. He got no trust in
his life and so he can't have no good relationship. 
Since you're asking about relationship, this maybe
bad.  He can have emotional contacts, but they make
him uncomfortable and insecure. Maybe he's afraid of
rejection. Don't know.  He is moody and sensitive.
Don't give up control to no one.  Sound like anyone
you know?"  She looked amused as she looked at them.
 My god, how does she know?  Scully surprised herself
 by thinking it. 
She just described me, but at the same time the same
description applies to Mulder.  Hurt - control - I
don't want to believe this, she thought.
 The woman continued.  "You must be rendered
 absolutely powerless
and torn to pieces before you can begin to grow."  She
looked at them sharply. "You two have not had sex,"
she proclaimed and they both jumped, making her laugh.
"No, this maybe good.  You fuck, you come, you scream
a little, you got better relationship.  What more you
want from outcome card?  But, could be bad.  We got
danger coming from the water in these cards.  You
could get hurt.  You maybe got to die in water and
come back, next life you got a better chance at
happiness."
 Scully gaped at her.
 "Pretend I not say that.  Probably not happen.
 Probably what I said
first. You two gotta do it before you get good
relationship.  This guy, he also have problems with
trust. Solve problems with trust and you got some
hope. The picture means, he wants to let go. But he's
afraid. He's afraid he'll drown if he lets go of
control.  You don't realize, sometimes losing control
can feel pretty good," she proclaimed.
 There was a moment of silence where Mulder and Scully
 just stared at
her, thinking how incredibly on target she had seemed
to be.  And wondering what that meant about her
predictions for the future.  "So, you believe now?"
she asked melodramatically.  "You want to know if good
dead ancestors approve of your union?  You're
American, you don't care so much for ancestors, but
their opinions must be respected.  As you got in your
cards, they can really mess things up for you."
 She reached for her crystal ball and rubbed her hands
 over it. Scully
was amazed that touching the glass left no
fingerprints.  The psychic then peered in. "Wow. Man.
You got a whole crowd in here.  Got some old guys. Got
some young women.  Even a black man!  He's cute!"
 Mulder's eyes slid to Scully.  How would a psychic
 know about Mr. X? 
Why would a woman making things up about their
families chose to include a black man when they were
both so white?
 "Okay, here we have our spirit guide.  He wants to
 talk to you," the
psychic said, looking at Scully.
 "Me?" asked Scully.
 The psychic nodded and then she began to bark in
 high, yippy tones. 
Scully's mouth dropped open and it was all she could
do not to run out of the room.  The barking sounded
oddly like Queequeg.  Soon the psychic stopped, and
said to Scully, "You get the message?"
 "I think it got lost in the translation," Scully said
 cautiously. "That happens sometimes," shrugged the
 psychic.  "He say sorry, time
to move on, see ya later, all that. He's back with his
real owner, and he's a happy dog. He never liked
handsome there much anyway."  She nodded to Mulder. 
Scully frowned, because it was true Queequeg hadn't
liked Mulder very much.  "There are too many people
here to have them all talk. Take forever. You got lots
of dead people in your lives.  Very weird.  Anyway, we
take a vote.  Doggie do the asking.  Do you approve,
yes or no?"
 The psychic waited, as though listening on the other
 side of an
ephemeral curtain.  Then she began to relay the
responses.  Old man say, be careful Fox.  Other old
man agree.  Red faced old man say be happy Starbuck.
Young woman say Go for it Dana!  There are
others...many dislike both of you.  That's okay, they
in cold dark place and not bother you.  Doggie want to
add vote. Doggie say he no like man.  Oh...bad doggie!
 Bad doggie!"  The pyschic looked at them. 
"Connection broken. Doggie must be punished.  No
lifting legs allowed in heaven.  Bad doggie."
 "At least he wasn't biting people," Mulder leaned
 over to whisper in
Scully's ear.
 "So," said the psychic.  "We got some relatives with
 warning be
careful. This go with warning in the cards.  Water may
cause danger. Water may even cause death. There are
powerful natural forces at work.  Watch you. Other
relatives say be happy. This nice, no?  But mostly
relatives of one don't know you two together, so they
don't really care.  This happens sometimes with
ancestors.  We got to respect them, they don't got to
respect us.  You got a shot at happiness, kids. That
be the bottom line.  But you got to grow to do it. Got
to let go of fear.  And be careful of the water.  And
maybe try having sex now that you're married! Jeez!"
 Scully and Mulder exchanged crazy smiles, not knowing
 what to make
of anything she'd just said, whether to take her
seriously or not.
 "What you waiting for? Go!" cried the woman. "Luau
 start soon!" At this exclamation, the pair left the
 psychic's den.  They didn't speak
as they walked along the corridor, back out to the
open deck of the ship. They didn't know what to say to
one another.  Mulder wasn't sure he wanted to believe
it because it was so easy to believe. Scully didn't
want to believe it because it forcasted danger and yet
it had seemed to be so on target. The polling of the
ancestors had unnerved her. She thought she had been
able to feel their presence in the room.  She realized
Mulder was holding her hand tightly.  She looked up at
him and he smiled at her.
 "So you think we should listen to her?" he asked.
 "What do you mean, Mulder?" she asked back.
 "We should make love and then we'll be fine."
 Scully didn't have a response. She didn't want to say
 no, but neither did
she want to say yes.  They were interrupted by the
approach of the unshakable Julie. "There you are! 
It's almost time for the luau! Make sure you dress
appropriately!"  she cried before she raced off to
harass another couple.
 "What do you suppose is appropriate?" Scully asked
 Mulder. "Hawaiian shirts and leis?" he asked. His
 grin indicated he knew he
was almost making a pun and she decided not to groan
and give him that satisfaction.  But she couldn't help
the face she made when she thought about Hawaiian
shirts.  "Cheer up, Scully, it could be worse," he
told her, squeezing her hand.
 "How," she said in a flat voice, not believing
 anything could be worse
than dressing in ugly clothes and roasting a pig on a
spit.
 "It could be square dancing," he said, and she
 realized he was right. 
Dressing in ugly clothes and dancing in public would
be much worse, Scully thought.

End of part nine.  Please send comments:
eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu

Disclaimer in part one. For missing parts:
http://members.aol.com/shippergrl/truth.txt

Truth
Part 10
by Jessica Zyvarek Taylor & eponine119 
jzyvarek@udel.edu, eponine119@att.net


 They wandered back to their room.  Scully was unsure
 of her next
move.  Yes, square dancing would be worse, but by how
much? How much worse could anything be other than Matt
and Julie and Daniel and Tanya dressed in Hawaiian
prints, having fun and dancing?  

 Mulder had stretched out on the bed, giving Scully
 the impression
that he was considering their morning.  He turned his
head and grinned at her.  "Do you think they'll offer
belly dancing lessons?"

 She groaned.  It had just gotten worse.  "Actually,
 Mulder, yes.
I'm absolutely certain that Julie would just love to
teach you the finer points of belly dancing."  He
rolled his eyes and turned to stare at the ceiling
again.  "Don't for one second think that I missed the
looks you were giving each other."  She grinned back
at him, but he wasn't looking.

 "I don't know, Scully, I've kind of had my eye on
 Matt."

 They both laughed, relaxing once again in the
 aftermath of the
sobering psychic reading.  "Mulder, if I promise not
to get mad, will you admit to feeding that woman all
that information?"

 He stood up and walked over to her, shaking his head.
  "No such
luck.  I was hoping you'd done it.  That was uncanny."
 He rubbed at his face, realizing for the first time
the source of the itchiness.  "Hey, Scully, I forgot
to shave this morning, care to help me enact my
perfect day?"

 She blushed and averted her eyes, trying to hide how
 very much
she'd enjoy that very thing.  "Here I thought you were
trying to turn me on with your rugged, manly look."

 He leaned in close, launching a serious invasion on
 her personal
space and blocking her escape route with his arms. 
"If I wanted to turn you on, I'd just put my glasses
on."

 She blushed deeper and wished she could crawl under
 the rug.  "I
wish I'd never mentioned that."

 He grinned, obviously enjoying her embarrassment. 
 "Oh, but
Scully, now I understand why you walk into my office
with that look on your face."

 She'd gotten past being embarrassed and wasn't happy
 to be on the
receiving end of his teasing.  "Oh?  And what look
would that be?"

 "The look that says you want to lock the door and
 ravage me
senseless."  

 He was teasing her, she hoped.  But she was glad that
 everything
was going all right between them.  They were happy and
flirting and he was standing in her personal space and
she wasn't complaining.  She lowered her eyelashes
seductively, as well as she could manage standing a
foot below him.  "The door's locked now, Mulder."  She
smiled suggestively, enjoying the surprised, then
pleased look on his face.  Both of them leaned
forward, thinking that finally they would kiss.

 It wasn't in the cards.  The psychic should have
 warned them.  A
staccato rap at the door distracted them, Mulder
guiltily stepping away from Scully who was letting out
the breath she'd been holding, trying not to seem
disappointed.  He pulled open the door, talking to
Scully over his shoulder, not caring the slightest bit
who was at the door.

 "How are we ever going to have sex if we keep getting
interrupted?"

 Scully smiled, laughing nervously.  Yes, it was
 something they
both wanted to happen, but they had only hinted at it
and joked about it. Something about Mulder's deadpan
suggested to her that he was dead serious about
sleeping with her.  Consequences be damned.  It
frightened her.

 The woman at the door let her mouth hang open for a
 second,
managing once in her life to actually think about what
her annoying interruptions were interrupting.  It took
Mulder a second to figure out who it was.  Under the
long black wig, the string bikini top, and the grass
skirt and toe rings was their annoying little waif
friend Julie.  A brilliantly fake blue flower in her
fake hair and a bright pink lei completed the look. 
Matt joined her a moment later, an obnoxiously orange
tan having recently been added to his skin with the
help of tanning cream. The orange clashed horribly
with the bright blues and greens and reds in his
shirt, but then, so did the lei that matched Julie's. 
The cream had stained the bottom cuff of his tan
shorts, and stopped just short of the socks he'd been
wearing when he put it on, but now that he was wearing
sandals, it left something to the imagination. 
Namely, taste.  Both had sunglasses push up onto their
foreheads and their trademark thousand kilowatt
smiles.

 "Guys!"  Was it possible Julie's voice had become
 squeakier?  He
hadn't thought it possible.  "You're going to miss the
luau!"

 Scully, afraid that Mulder would actually agree to
 such a display
because of the presence of a bikini clad beauty,
pulled him out of the way and planted herself between
the two.  "Jules, darling, we haven't a thing to
wear!"  She heard Mulder snicker behind her and fought
to keep a straight face.  It wasn't hard when she
thought about her plans of locking the door and
ripping enough of Mulder's clothes off to prevent
another distraction.

 Julie linked arms with Scully, dismayed at the way
 Scully pulled
away.  She wasn't being rude, she just didn't want the
tanning cream to ruin her sweatshirt.  But Matt
grabbed Scully's shoulder, pulling her out of the room
and attached himself to Mulder.  "Let's go! Up and at
'em! We've got things for you to wear."

 Scully continued to resist.  "I don't think you've
 got anything in
my size."  She knew it was useless.  Julie could stand
in for her as a body double.

 "Nonsense, Dana!  You're what, a 6?  I've got an
 extra skirt
that'll fit you just fine.  I've got another top too. 
It'll fit you like a glove!"

 Scully ignored Mulder's leer.  "I am not wearing a
 neon green
bikini, nor am I wearing a grass skirt.  No!"  She
tried to walk back into the room, but Matt pulled the
door shut in her face and Scully instantly remembered
seeing the key lying on the dresser.

 "You won't have to, Dana.  I've got an orange one!"

 Scully winced.  Orange was not only the worst
 possible color
combination with her skin tone imaginable, but it
would also serve to point out just how long it had
been since she'd been on a beach.  Three or four
years, at least.  But the unbridled joy of the pair
could not be diminished and Mulder and Scully found
themselves being whisked off in opposite directions to
prepare for their doom, whoops, that would be luau.

 She winced as the lotion hit her back.  Coming from a
 bottle in an
air conditioned cabin, the tanning cream was freezing.
 And Scully was already adamantly opposed to having it
smeared on her anyway.  But Julie wouldn't let her do
it herself, saying, in complete truth, that Scully
would need help applying it to her back in such a way
so it wouldn't be too obvious.  As if the fact that
she'd been pale as a sheet moments earlier wouldn't
give that fact away.  She stared at the bare wall as
Julie massaged away.  At Scully's insistence, Julie
had managed to locate a bikini top that was not neon,
it was purple, but it wouldn't glow. Scully considered
it a compromise.  The skirt was itchy as all hell and
was at least a size too big for her, giving away
Julie's lie that it was hers.  It was slung low across
her hips, leaving little to the imagination, but there
was nothing she could do about it.  All the safety
pins in the world wouldn't keep the thing at her
waist.  Julie accessorized her as if she was playing
with a Barbie doll, sliding on one piece of jewelry,
frowning, and replacing it with another.  Currently,
Julie had settled on a thick silver bracelet
positioned up above Scully's elbow and huge silver
earrings that Scully had every intention of removing
before she left the room.  Both ankles were adorned
with silver jewelry that made an incredibly irritating
noise when she moved her feet.  Julie had presented
her with a box of toe rings, at which Scully had
merely refused to even look.  Her mentions that she
looked better in gold went ignored as Julie continued
her costuming session.  

 Setting down the bottle of lotion and washing her
 hands, Julie
produced a curling iron and went about twisting
Scully's hair into a wild array of curls.  She left
most of them free, but pinned one section near her
face up and decorated her with a silk flower that
matched the purple top.  The tattoo had thrown her at
first, but then gave her an idea.  As soon as Scully's
hair was finished, she pulled out body paints and
painted a tiny rose on the front of Scully's shoulder.
 Annoyed as she was with the whole spectacle and the
idea in general, Scully liked the rose.  Julie was
quite an artist.  The make up artist moved on then,
attacking Scully with blue mascara and bright pink
blush.  Next appeared the purple lipstick and Scully
finally put a stop to the horror.  She backed up,
trying not to cry at the combined swishy whisper of
the skirt and the jingle of the anklets.  She shook
her head forcefully.

 "No.  No purple lipstick.  No.  I'm a fair skinned
 redhead."

 Julie put on her best mix of happy and condescending
 expressions
and turned Scully to face the full length mirror. 
"Not anymore!"

 Scully just stared.  Her skin had tanned nicely, not
 a hint of the
orange goo Matt had used.  Julie had done a wonderful
job on her hair, even with the addition of the flower.
 The shadows the ringlets created made her hair appear
much darker, blending nicely with her fresh tan. Even
the outfit itself looked good, and she had to admit
she had the figure for it.  The rose was a nice touch.
 Somehow, with all her aggravating quirks, Julie had
worked magic.  Scully didn't look like Julie did, not
like she was playing dress up.  She looked good.  She
could only think of one thing:  Mulder eat your heart
out.

 Amazed with her transformation, Scully let Julie prod
 her until
she sat on the bed.  The Julie pulled one of Scully's
bare feet onto her stool and reached for nail polish. 
"Julie?  Nail polish?  We've already taken forever."

 Julie just smiled and embarked on painting.  "90
 seconds.  That's
all it takes.  Isn't science amazing?"

 Scully just stared as the bright pink polish hardened
 on her toes,
even offering her hands before Julie had the chance to
ask.  She looked good.  And knowing that she looked
good was enough to override the silly feeling that
overtook her walking around in a grass skirt and
bright purple bikini.  Two minutes later, after
checking the polish herself and acknowledging that it
was in fact dry, Scully mutely followed Julie out the
door and out onto the deck where the luau was being
held.  She even forgot about the earrings when Julie
handed her a light green lei.

 The loud music and voices overpowered her for a
 second.  She was
used to dimly lit rooms and cushions and little sailor
suits on the employees.  They were no less noticeable,
all the girls had the same waist length black wig and
green bikinis.  Their male counterparts all had
identically orange skin.  Scully wondered for a moment
why they didn't get the same realistic looking stuff
she'd received.  Then she saw him.  She just knew it
was him, standing off to himself, leaning over the
railing, with a decided slant to his shoulders.  She
knew he assumed she'd talked her way out of it and was
abandoning him.  But she couldn't leave.  Not before
she got a chance to tease him over the ridiculous
outfit Matt had given him, looking every bit as goofy
in shorts as she had always thought he would, wearing
what had to be the most outlandish shirt on earth.  He
must have picked it out himself, she thought.  It
reminded her of one of his favorite ties.  He was even
wearing sandals and a lei that matched her own. She
snickered as she approached.

 He felt two arms encircle his waist.  Finally,
 finally Scully had
returned from the great beyond and was there to share
the misery.  But then he looked down at the deeply
tanned arms that were clasped around him.  The bright
pink nail polish caught his eye, but the ring that
stood out in stark contrast to her skin did not.  He
took the wrists and pushed them behind him.  

 The woman was not deterred, and her seductive voice
 fairly purred
forth.  "What's a guy like you doing all alone in a
place like this?"  The arms returned.

 He pushed them away again, stepping sideways to avoid
 another
embrace.  "I'm married."  He was startled at just how
easily the words slipped out.

 She grinned at his back.  He had no idea it was her. 
 She sidled
up to him, delicately tracing her finger over his arm,
continuing to use the low voice to throw him.  "Who's
the lucky girl?"

 He pulled his arm away.  The woman was torturing him.
  And she
smelled so good.  "What makes you think she's so
lucky?"

 Fearing his nonexistent self esteem issues were
 rising up, she
turned and leaned her back on the railing, pushing
herself between him and ocean.  "I happen to think
she's very lucky."

 He looked down, not seeing for a moment.  "Look, why
 don't you..."
His voice trailed off as he recognized her face.  He
let out a whistle that drew an unseen blush to her
tanned face.  He backed up, signaling for her to turn
around so he could admire the view.  

 Any other man, she would have decked for the
 appreciative gleam in
his eye.  But she loved that it was coming from
Mulder.  And she loved that she was going to hold his
attention for a while.  She smiled back, feeling
uncharacteristically bold because of her new persona. 
She stepped forward and ran her fingers down his
chest, starting at his shoulders and stopping at his
waist.  His arms wrapped around her, lightly pulling
her closer.

 "I think I might have to hire Julie to come live with
 us."

 She raised her eyebrow at him.  "Us?  Planning on
 moving in with
me?"

 "No, you're moving in with me."

 She shook her head, her heart beating rapidly at the
 dangerous
ground they were treading on.  "Is that so?  Well,
then I'm bringing my couch."

 He shook his head.  "Sorry, miss, my couch stays." 
 He loved his
couch.  He'd keep it until the day he died.

 "We could keep both of them, you know, put them back
 to back, play
a little Battleship."

 They both smiled at his words turned around on him,
 being used in
a much more friendly environment.  "I've always loved
Battleship."

 "You'll have to teach me, Mulder.  I've never
 played."  She loved
the feeling of being in his arms, especially with his
hands gently resting on her bare lower back.

 He moved one hand, causing her to whimper slightly. 
 Placing a
finger to her lips, he silenced her.  "Fox."  Shock
won out over her other emotions and her mouth fell
open slightly.  He smiled.  "There's lots of things I
plan on teaching you, honey."  It wasn't used as an
insult or subordinating comment.  It was actually a
term of endearment.  She liked it.

 She broke eye contact first, fearing a heart attack
 from the way
her heart continued to pound.  She heard the music
lower, the frantic dance beat giving way to softer
soothing music.  "Let's dance."

 His smile faded and he regarded her for a moment. 
 "Let's not."
His voice was choked and had to drop to a whisper to
get the words out. She met his eyes again and slowly
closed them as him mouth descended towards hers.

End of part ten. Please send comments:
jzyvarek@udel.edu, eponine119@att.net

Disclaimer in part one.  For missing parts:
http://members.aol.com/shippergrl/truth.txt

The Truth
part 11
by eponine119  & Jessica Zyvarek Taylor
eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu

 A weight like a half-ton of bricks slammed into
 Scully's back directly
between her shoulder blades, corresponding with a
tremendous crash.  Tears came into her eyes, which
flew open as her body reacted to the shock, and she
turned around gingerly to see what had happened.
Needless to say, her lips and Mulder's never touched. 
"I'm so sorry," Matt was saying over and over again as
he stood behind her, just staring down at a spilled,
ruined mess of hors d'oevres that had once been on the
silver tray in his hands.  It was the tray that he'd
hit her with.  He wiped his sweating brow with the
back of his arm. "I didn't see you there."
 "I'm sure," said Scully, aware that the sweat running
 into Matt's eyes
was as orange as his skin.  "That tanning solution is
an eye irritant, you need to go rinse your eyes with
water," she told him. Meanwhile Tanya and Julie were
rushing to pick up the food.
 "There goes my appetite," Mulder commented.
 "Mine too," Scully said dryly, stepping around the
 mess to follow him
to a different location.
 "Let me see," Mulder said, placing one hand on her
 back and turning
her around.  She felt his fingers against her skin.  
 "Bruised?" she asked.
 "Not yet."
 "Which means it will be."
 "Even with this orange stuff on you, I can see a big
 red welt. You're
fair, you bruise anyway," he said and she looked at
him, surprised that he'd noticed that about her. Not
that she was fair skinned, that was pretty obvious,
but that she tended to bruise.  They stood there a
moment looking at each other until she realized that
his hand was still resting against her hip. Rather far
down on her hip, actually.  Where her tattoo was, if
she wasn't mistaken. And she didn't want him playing
with her tattoo.
 "I'm glad you didn't let them put that stuff on you,"
 she told him. "There was no way," he said. "I'm not
 that vain." "And I am, is that what you're saying?"
 she snapped. "Scully -" he protested, but she was
 already walking away.  He
followed her, but the place where she sat down was
already crowded with people. There was room for her to
sit, and she nodded to the people there as though she
knew them, but there was no place for him.  Her eyes
flashed at him defiantly, and he slunk away to sit on
the opposite of the big circle from her.  At least he
could see her.  If she would look at him. What the
hell had he done wrong this time anyway? he wondered.
 "It will take some time for Wilbur here to be ready
 -" said Matt, who'd
apparently recovered from his tanning incident.  He
now had a white stripe on his face across his eyes
where he had washed the stuff off him.  He looked like
a reverse bandit of some kind and absolutely
ridiculous.  Mulder also had a problem with giving a
name to a dead animal you were about to eat. It turned
his stomach.  " - So we have entertainment for you,"
he finished triumphantly and moved out of the way.
 Tanya, Julie, and another similarly outfitted,
 black-wigged, twig-
figured woman moved into the center of the ring. 
Mulder thought how much better Scully looked in the
same ridiculous outfit.  He wished he could tell her
so, but she was all the way over there.  The three
women struck poses like Hawaiian dancers and one of
them opened her mouth.  Tanya. Mulder steeled himself
for "The sun'll come out, tomorrow," but what she sang
was actually much worse.
 "Tiny bubbles," she began and Mulder had to hold his
 breath to keep
from laughing.  Then the three guys came out onto the
"stage" strumming ukuleles and he had to turn away. No
one else looked amused.  No one else seemed to think
this was ridiculous. No one else seemed to have been
overtaken by the horrible feeling that they had been
beaming into a terrible 1960s beach blanket movie. 
Since he didn't want to laugh, he decided to become
irritated by its utter brainlessness instead.  He
crossed his arms and furrowed his brow into a scowl.
He decided that if he saw Frankie and Annette he would
jump overboard.  He threw in a  pout and looked at
Scully. She had an odd look on her face, part puzzled
and part amazed. He wished he could whisper to her
that this was an X File and make her smile at him.
 Then the most amazing thing happened.  The women
 moved out into
the crowd and so did the men.  Each of them selected
one of the unsuspecting now well adjusted couples and
pulled them into the ring with them.  Matt selected
Scully.  She shook her head, but he insisted that she
get to her feet and join them.  Mulder wanted to shout
for him to unhand her, but he held his tongue.  Scully
didn't deserve any more embarrassment. This was
enough.
 It was a hula dance lesson. Just what Scully had
 wanted.  The other
two women, who in Mulder's opinion were slightly too
hefty to be running around in bikini tops and grass
skirts, picked up the delicate arm movements and hip
shaking quickly.  Scully looked like she didn't even
want to try.  She stood there looking fairly
miserable, backing farther and farther away from Tanya
and  Julie and their minions.
 Mulder was on his feet in a second when he saw what
 was happening,
but the crowd of seated viewers was too thick. In
horror, he saw his wife - wait, no, Scully wasn't his
wife, was she, not really - he saw Scully back up too
close to where Wilbur their dinner was roasting over
an open fire.  The flame jumped easily to the back of
her dried grass skirt.  "Dana!" he screamed, worried
about her.  She didn't even look up.
 She picks a great time to forget her name, Mulder
 thought, dashing
through the crowd and not caring who he stepped on to
get to her.    "Scully, move!" he cried, just as she
was beginning to see the smoke and feel the heat and
realize what was happening.  She turned around and
looked down in horror.  Mulder's scream alerted the
others, who looked up and noticed Scully's skirt was
burning.  By the time he reached her, she was
surrounded by hula girls and geeks with ukuleles who
drew her away from the fire and beat the flame out of
her grass skirt.
 "Let me through!" Mulder yelled at them, pushing
 people out of his
way. "Scully, are you all right?" he asked, locking
eyes with her and reaching out. 
 She didn't take his hands. "I'm fine," she said
 coldly and he didn't
understand her reaction.  She saw his confusion at her
words, but she didn't care.  She was mortified. She'd
made an ass out of herself in front of the entire ship
yet again, and she'd ruined all of Julie's hard work
and the time that the other woman had spent making her
look beautiful. Not to mention that she'd been mean to
Mulder again and messed that up.  The longer she stood
there, surrounded, and thought about it, the more she
thought she was a complete social failure.
 "We'll get you to the ship's medic," Julie offered.
 "No!" Scully said, and Mulder saw panic in her eyes. 
 He understood
why instantly and moved to her side.
 "We have two options," he said, leaning down and
 talking directly into
her ear so no one else could hear.  "You can leave the
skirt here, or you can leave it on and I'll walk out
of here behind you so no one can see you."  He knew
she was worried about exposing her self to everyone
who'd come to the luau, which if he knew the handiwork
of their perky counselors, was everyone on board. If
anyone had been able to escape their eagle eyes, he'd
like to have interviewed that person for tips days
ago.
 She looked up into his eyes. "We have another option,
 Mulder," she
said softly.
 "What's that?"  The way she was looking at him
 entranced him. Her
eyes were perfectly innocent and absolutely seductive
at the same time.
 "You could carry me - oh!"  The words had no sooner
 left her lips than
Mulder scooped her up with his arm around her
shoulders and the other behind her knees.  The crowd
made a sound as though they were spectators at some
kind of thrill-movie.  Scully wrapped her arm around
his neck and pressed her face against him.  He almost
dropped her out of shock.  She tucked her head
underneath his chin and he could feel her breathing. 
Mulder prayed for strength and began to walk.
 The surprise of his romantic action was effective for
 a few seconds. 
Then Julie began to follow and as she walked, she
talked.  "We'll put her down in the library, and have
the medic take a look. You're not seriously burned,
are you, darling?  It was terribly careless of us,
having that fire out in the open like that.  Maybe we
should have had this all indoors."
 Mulder groaned. An indoor fire would probably had a
 completely
different set of problems, he thought.  He'd never
thought blondes were dumb before, but Julie was fast
changing his mind.
 Scully stiffened in his arms.  She thought he was
 groaning because she
was too heavy, or because he didn't really want to be
carrying her. "Put me down," she said.
 "We're almost there."
 "I said put me down!"
 "Scully, keep still or I'll -"  The words trailed off
 as he lost his grip and
she slipped to the floor with a tiny thud.  " - drop
you," he finished lamely.
 "Are you all right?" gushed Julie.
 "Please just leave me alone," Scully said and Mulder
 moved closer,
worried about her. There were tears in her eyes and in
her voice.  She didn't get up from where she'd fallen,
just drew her knees up and buried her face. She didn't
make any noise, but he could tell from the tiny jerks
of her shoulders that she was crying.
 "I'll get the medic," Julie said and she sounded
 serious and worried. 
Probably about her insurance, Mulder thought
cynically.
 "Scully, are you hurt?" he asked and she didn't
 answer.  "Please...don't
cry, please."
 "Leave me alone Mulder."
 "Not when you're crying and it's my fault."
 "It's not your fault so go away."  She breathed
 shakily, trying to stop
the stupid tears but they wouldn't.  She was crying
because she was embarrassed about being such a klutz
and the way that this ship brought out her ability to
do the wrong thing in any given situation - an ability
she thought she'd outgrown before she graduated high
school.  She wanted him to go away. She wanted off
this ship and away from these people and she wanted to
go home where it was cold and the sun never shone and
she had to deal with Skinner and weird mutants all
day.  She wanted to go home where she felt safe.  But
if she said it, it would hurt Mulder.
 "No," he said, placing his hand against her back. 
 "I'm sorry I dropped
you."
 "That was my fault. I asked you to carry me and I
 told you to put me
down."
 "I should have put you down when you asked me to."
 "Well, maybe you should have," she conceded, raising
 her head just in
time to see Mulder's anguished look return.
 "This is my fault," he said and she wanted to scream
 for all the times
he'd said that.  She knew he blamed himself for
everything and now she was letting him do it again.
But she didn't have time to argue because the ship's
medic arrived.
 He was a pleasant enough looking man, smiling at them
 both.  "What
seems to be the trouble?" he asked, as cheerful as a
robot at Disneyland.  At least he wasn't in Hawaiian
gear.
 "I got too close to a fire. I'm fine," Scully
 insisted, getting to her feet. "Let him look," Mulder
 told her. "I'm fine," she said.  "I'm going to go
 change." "Wait and let him look." Mulder wanted to
 keep her there, so he seized
the only thing he could grab - the grass skirt.
 "Mulder, let go, I'm going to go put on some
 clothes." Scully took a
step away to try to yank the skirt out of his hands. 
As it turned out, the laws of physics were on his
side.  The tie on the fragile skirt broke and Mulder
continued to hold it as Scully stood there in her
borrowed bikini bottom.
 "That is a bad burn," the medic said, stepping in and
 looking at the
back of Scully's thigh.  She froze when he touched
her.  "You'll want to keep it medicated and covered to
keep out infection," he told her, and she felt him
tape a gauze square to the upper part of the back of
her thigh.  "Okay, you can go," he said after a
moment.
 "Thank god," Scully said and walked out of the
 library, leaving Mulder
standing there holding her skirt.  It was a moment
before she heard his footsteps behind her in the hall
on the way to their cabin.
 "Scully, I'm so sorry," he told her.  She looked over
 her shoulder at
him. "About the skirt, about all of this."
 "It's not your fault," she told him, opening the door
 and going inside. 
The door almost closed before Mulder reached it,
pushing his way inside.  He stopped just inside the
door because Scully had reached her bag, repacked in
anticipation of the ship docking on the island in a
few hours, and was holding up as though on display for
his approval a pair of white cotton underpants. She
looked up and saw him staring at them and gave him a
look that said, "Come on, you've seen these before." 
She withdrew a pair of shorts from the bag as well and
to his surprise, slid a hand under the string of the
bikini she was wearing.
 He gaped.
 "Can I have some privacy?" she asked, raising her
 eyebrows at him. "B-b-bathroom," he said. "I didn't
 know you stuttered," she shrugged, holding his eyes
 and
challenging him. When he didn't turn around, she began
to lower the bikinis.
 Mulder spun around so fast he got dizzy.  He had to
 close his eyes, but
doing so didn't block out the very strong image in his
imagination of what was happening only a few feet
behind him.  The bathing suit bottom was sliding down
over those slender legs he'd gotten such a good look
at.  She was naked for a few seconds, bending down to
slip the bottom off and step into those virginal
good-girl panties.  He heard the zipper on her shorts
go up but didn't turn around because his body was
throbbing with how much he wanted to rip them back off
of her.
 "Mulder, you coming?" Scully asked, stopping beside
 him at the door. "Yeah," he said, then tore himself
 out of sexual-fantasyland.  "I mean,
uh - yeah.  You're going back? To the luau?"
 "I'm sure Julie's worried about me," she said in a
 dark tone and headed
out the door.
 Julie had been worried, very worried, so much so that
 she cleared the
way to give Mulder and Scully specially privileged
seats where they could personally witness up close the
carving of the roast pig.
 "Here." Someone pushed a small bowl between their
 hands. It was
filled with a white paste.  Mulder looked up but the
person was gone.  Scully looked down at the substance
and then looked at Mulder.
 "What is it?" she asked.
 "Poi?" he said.
 "What do we do with it?" she asked.
 "Eat it," he answered.
 "How?"
 "With our fingers."
 "Mulder, how do you know this?"
 "Unlike you, Scully, my TV gets channels other than
 Discovery and
the Learning Channel," he answered with a grin.
 "I watch the Weather Channel too," she said with a
 charming smile of
her own.  She looked down at the paste again. "With
our fingers, huh?"  She looked doubtful.  "What's in
this stuff?"
 "Coconut?" Mulder tried and she looked at him like he
 was suddenly
the world's expert on luaus.  "I don't know."
 "What's it taste like?" she asked, still looking like
 a kid confronted
with lima beans.
 Mulder swiped two of his fingers into the paste -
 which was lukewarm,
to his surprise, and held them out to her.  "Find
out," he said, mostly because her questions were
starting to put him slightly on edge.
 He didn't realize that the consequence of his gesture
 was going to be
her taking his fingers into her mouth.  He watched her
red tongue dart out and cautiously touch the substance
on his skin.  Then she opened her lips and placed them
against his hand, lapping at the remaining substance
there like a kitten with a bowl of milk.  Mulder was
acutely aware of every lash of her tongue.  It was
delicate and sensual at the same time, drawing a hot,
hard knot in his stomach...not to mention lower as he
thought of a few other body parts he wouldn't mind
having her tongue work on.
 She removed her mouth and looked up at him with those
 wide,
innocent eyes that he was beginning to believe were
the first step in the Scully School of Seduction. 
"It's good," she said slowly. Then she dipped her own
hand into the bowl and offered it to him with an
intense control of her leisurely movement.
 He lowered his head and began to lick her fingers. 
 He heard her pant
out a hard breath and knew he was getting to her.  He
continued to massage her fingers with his tongue long
after the slightly sweet food was gone from their
surface. Then he raised his head and looked at her,
waiting for the next move to be made.
 He was really hoping she would take the poi and smear
 it on her body.  Because if she didn't he was going
 to have to do that himself and he
had sensitive skin and since he didn't know what was
in it, he didn't really want to be courting a week of
allergic reactions. Although he was certain a little
discomfort would be worth the enormous pleasure the
act would lead to.
 Neither of them moved.  Then Mulder's fingers began
 to inch back
towards the bowl.
 They both jumped as a huge hardened pink object
 dropped down onto
the floor between them. "Oh my god," Scully said,
stunned.  They'd been presented with the head of the
pig, still complete with the apple in its mouth.
 "For the guests of honor," proclaimed Matt, who had
 brought them
their trophy.  "The bravest guests at the luau."
 "Speech!" cried Julie.
 "That is disgusting," Scully said and got to her
 feet, wishing to get as
far from the pig-head as possible.  Matt and Julie
both looked at her, stunned, but she didn't look back.
She could feel the back of her thigh blistering and
tried to block out both the pain.
 "That was pretty sick," Mulder said.  She looked up. 
 She hadn't
expected him to return to their cabin so soon.  She'd
expected him to have stayed at the party.
 "What are they thinking, Mulder?" she asked, and she
 had to laugh at
all of them - Julie, Matt, Tanya, Daniel, Theresa,
Helen, the dancer and her gigolo partner, the
pyschic...well, maybe not the psychic because there
had been something about her predictions that rang
eerily true...but the rest of them were so ridiculous,
so far removed from Scully's realm of understanding.
 "*Are* they thinking?" Mulder asked her back, and he
 was laughing. 
He produced a pair of glasses and a bottle of
champagne.  He filled one of the glasses and handed it
to her.  "Here's to a cruise ruined by good
intentions," he said, filling his own glass.
 "Where did you get this?" Scully asked, clinking her
 goblet against his
and sipping the bubbly liquid.
 "Remember the porter's promise?"  Mulder's eyes
 danced with
mischief.
 "It's good," Scully told him.
 "Want to get drunk?" Mulder asked, holding out the
 bottle and offering
to refill her glass already.
 She hesitated, and then allowed him to.  "You can't
 get drunk on
champagne, Mulder," she said boldly.
 "Is that a fact," he said ironically. "Scientifically
 proven?" he asked
her.
 "Iron clad," she said, taking another swallow. It
 really was good, she
thought.  "What time does the boat dock?"
 "About eight," he answered.
 "Well, let's drink until then and see if we get
 drunk," she said, offering
her glass to him for a second refill.
 Mulder was about to caution her to slow down, but
 didn't.  He didn't
want her to.  He poured another glass and waited for
things to get interesting, thinking that if she kept
up at this pace, she would be passed out before the
ship reached the island's harbor and he was going to
have to carry her and her bags.
 Which, to his dismay, was exactly what happened.

end of part eleven.  please send comments!
eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu

Disclaimer in part one. For missing parts:
http://members.aol.com/shippergrl/truth.txt

Truth
Part 12
by Jessica Zyvarek Taylor & eponine119 
jzyvarek@udel.edu, eponine119@att.net


 At first, he didn't know what was happening.  He was
 relatively
inexperienced at being on board a ship and he was
busy.  Before she'd passed out, she'd spend a good
half hour explaining to him that since she'd had to
delightful opportunity of sleeping in his arms once,
she could never sleep without him again.  Then she'd
launched herself at him, several rapid fire attempts
to climb into his lap while he was standing up, before
he finally sat down and let her have her way.  She was
still donning the shorts and string bikini top, that
true to Julie's words, fit her like a glove.  She was
so drunk that she stared at his admiring face without
commenting.  Then she'd cocked her head to the side
with her drunken affection extremely obvious.  Obvious
in the she'd reached for the button of his shorts,
having worked through the shirt buttons so quickly he
thought several had popped off in the process.

 She had one hand working desperately at the button
 and the other
pushing his shirt off his shoulders before he really
got the chance to respond.  She was drunk, he
reasoned, she hasn't got a single clue what she's
doing.  He reluctantly took hold of her wrists and
held them.  "No, Scully.  Not like this."

 "Awwww! Come on, Mulder, I've had it with your whole
 gentleman
act.  If you were such a gentleman you wouldn't have
all those tapes, and you certainly wouldn't have let
me find out about them."  She bent down and snagged
one of his fingers between her teeth, and in the state
she was in, bit down a little too hard.  He yelped.

 "Easy, killer."  He wasn't really opposed to the
 whole theory of
her mouth being attached to any part of his body, but
he couldn't do this to her.

 She giggled, a somewhat delayed reaction to his
 words.  "You're
finger lickin good!"  She threw her head back and
laughed at her own joke, much more amused by her
backhills impression than Mulder was.  Still the sheer
joy in her laughter caused him to smile.

 His grip relaxed on her wrists and she finagled them
 free,
renewing her attempt to remove his shorts.  He stopped
her again, picking her up and turning her around so
she wouldn't be able to try it again. His resistance
was weakening and pretty soon, he'd be assisting her
frantic work.  She muttered under her breath, and he
was certain he caught some sort of curse in her words.
 But when he turned her face toward him, she was
pouting like a 3 year old, looking too innocent to
have formulated the thought that he was a fucking
tease.  The pout faded when their eyes locked, somehow
the gravity of their friendship seeping into her brain
and sobering her slightly.  But she'd looked away and
tried a different tactic.  She nuzzled his neck and
the moment he felt her hot breath against the
sensitive skin, he groaned.  She giggled.  

 "Now, that's what I like to hear."  She went back to
 the task at
hand, turning herself sideways in his lap for better
access, thoroughly amused when his body instantly
reacted to her movement.  She giggled again.  "I know
you want to."  If she'd used the seductive voice she'd
used on the deck, he would have flipped her onto the
bed and removed the shorts himself.  But it was
delivered in the singsong voice of the pouting 3 year
old, sounding like she'd just caught her brother
stealing cookies from the cookie jar and was about to
tell mommy.  It worked better than a cold shower would
have.  

 He stood quickly, depositing her on the bed, being
 careful not to
bump her blistered leg, and then pulling the covers up
and tucking her in so tightly that in her drunken
dexterityless condition, there was no extrication
possible.  She uttered frustrated noises while she
tried to work her hands free, but he was sober and she
was not.  She offered one more mutter and then stopped
resisting.  He turned to walk away, but her calm,
almost sober voice stopped him.

 "Don't go.  Please?  Just stay here till I fall
 asleep."  He shook
his head.  "Please, Mu, Fox?  I'll be good."

 He gave and sat down on the edge of the bed beside
 her.  As it
turned out, three minutes was all she'd needed to pass
into that peaceful oblivion.  He stood and quickly
changed his shirt, dropping the old one in the trash
and looked around for Scully's sweatshirt.  It would
be evening when they docked and then wind would be
chilly.  And she was in the damned bikini that
promised to be his undoing.  He was just going to have
to take it from her if he wanted to be able to think
clearly for the rest of the trip.

 He found a denim shirt after accidentally stumbling
 upon her
collection of intimate apparel and decided the shirt
would do rather than see one more pastel lacy satin
thing that no nonsense, utterly professional Dana
Scully wore under her business suits.  Maybe he should
steal her luggage and buy her all white cotton.  But
that fostered the whole good little Catholic school
girl image and he kicked the bag in frustration.  This
cruise was not good for him.  Not good at all.

 He carried the shirt back over and sat down on the
 side of the bed
again, gently reaching out and removing the flower and
barrette from her hair.  He had no experience with
them, but it couldn't be comfortable to sleep with a
metal object pressing into one's head.  She sighed
when he removed it and turned her head so that her
cheek rested on his hand.  He was awestruck at the
feelings that swept through him.  To say there were
butterflies in his stomach was an understatement.  He
leaned over her and kissed her cheek, a reenactment of
what she'd done that morning to him.

 He was sitting there with his hand tucked under her
 face,
wondering if he dared lean forward again to steal just
a taste of those sweet lips, when he heard the
loudest, most frightening noise of his life. The whole
damn room, and probably boat, shook violently.  He
thought it was sinking for a moment, and wondered how
he could wake Scully up in time to save her.  

 But then he heard footsteps in the hallway, lots of
 rapping on
doors, and then finally, a tap at his own.  He removed
his hand and stepped over to the door.  Behind it
stood Julie, the Hawaiian do gone replaced with brown
shorts and a blue shirt, her eyes wet and her nose
red.  She sniffled.  Mulder wanted to hug her and ask
her what was wrong.

 "Fox, the ship's docked, time to go!"  The happy
 voice was
muffled slightly by a hiccup.  He must have looked
concerned.  "It always makes me sad to see the people
go.  We've all grown so close and gotten to know each
other so well and shared so many good times"  Sob,
sniffle. "I'll miss you and Dana so!"  

 Mulder saw her arms open wide, about to hug him, but
 suddenly Matt
joined her side.  Grabbing her with one arm, reaching
out to shake Mulder's hand with the other.  "Good
luck, Fox."  He turned, dragging a dismal Julie with
him, rubbing her back and whispering to her.  

 Mulder smiled at the picture they presented.  "Hey,
 Matt!"  Matt
and Julie turned around and looked.  "Good luck to you
two."  They glanced at each other sideways before
smiling.

 "Thank you."  Their voices rang out in unison and
 Mulder sincerely
hoped they'd never wind up taking this kind of cruise
for themselves. Then he turned back to the beautiful
drunken bikini wearing mess that was his partner.

 He shook her shoulder with one hand and tried to
 throw all their
stuff into bags with the other.  He figured they could
sort it out later, but that they needed to get packed
up quickly.  "Scully, let's go, come on, Matt and
Julie want to say good bye."

 Sleepy Scully, a rather enticing diversion to the
 matter at hand,
patted his hand.  "Bye bye."

 He laughed and zipped up the bag.  He checked the
 drawers, the
bathroom, even under the bed, although in all his
travels he'd never found something belonging to him
there.  Everything was all packed and another round of
people came barreling down the hall.  This time,
dressed in uniform.  He guessed they were the real
crew of the ship.  

 "All right, everybody, time to go!"  One of the men
 peered in the
door and laughed.  "You've got your hands full mister,
but you've still gotta go!"  Then he continued on his
merry way.

 "Thanks for offering to help, jerk."  Mulder grabbed
 the two bags,
pleased for the millionth time that Scully carried a
bag with a shoulder strap.  He swung it behind him and
scraped Scully off the bed.  He'd forgotten what an
excellent job he'd done tucking her in and the blanket
came with him for the first few steps.  She wasn't
heavy, but she was cumbersome, as were the two bags. 
It took quite an effort to drag everything up the
stairs and he was gasping for breath when he reached
the deck.  

 The gods smiled upon him and he felt Scully's arm
 latch around his
neck.  She was awake, sort of.  He dropped one of his
arms, but not wanting to repeat his earlier mistake of
dropping her, kept one arm around her.  She blinked at
him, very confused, and then leaned against him.  He
rewarded her by draping her bag over her shoulder,
then grabbing her hand and walking toward the dock. 
She went back to her muttering, but went with him,
stumbling occasionally because she kept her eyes
closed.  

 They fell into line with the rest of the couples,
 most of whom
like Mulder and Scully were holding hands.  A hush
fell over the crowd and everyone's attention turned to
Tanya, who, like the rest of the counselors, had also
changed into normal clothes.  "Everyone?  I just
wanted to take this time to thank you all, on behalf
of all the staff of 'Wedded Bliss,' for participating
and being good sports"  Her eyes focused on Mulder and
his sleepy, drunk, leaning partner.  "Even you two,"
Laughter erupted from the crowd and Mulder nodded,
annoyed that they'd been humiliated again.  "and for
helping us to help you.  We hope that you enjoyed your
time with us and as a token of our thanks, we'll be
distributing Wedded Bliss sweatshirts to everyone,
free of charge.  See your group counselors."  She
turned away, and started handing out her group of
shirts.  Mulder assumed their group counselors had
been Matt and Julie, who were giving out the shirts
while holding hands.  He thought it was cute.  The
last thing he wanted was a sweatshirt from them, but
he could see goose bumps rising on Scully's shoulder
and figured she'd appreciate it, since he'd repacked
the shirt he'd held out for her.

 He amazed himself sometimes, managing to get the
 sweatshirt and
pull it over Scully's head all the while not letting
her fall on her ass, which she seemed sleepily
determined to do.  When the line had finally moved off
the boat and he could actually see the dock, he nodded
one final time at Matt and Julie.  The resort staff
was waiting to take over from there.  About ten
sixteen year old boys were lending a hand to the
arriving guests, all dressed in white shorts and navy
blue sweatshirts and blue and white baseball caps
identifying them as 'staff.'  Mulder snorted to
himself.  Like anyone would wear that outfit who
wasn't getting paid. Behind the boys, was a row of
girls, with white sweatshirts, blue skirts, and
matching hats.  They were distributing papers,
checking things off on their lists and smiling
incessantly.  Another group of perky people, this time
with decidedly chauvinistic tendencies.  He looked
longingly back at the boat crew, missing their known
evil already.  

 But one of the boys, 'Ryan' or so his name tag
 claimed, stepped
forward and took Mulder's bag, asking politely before
reaching for Scully's.  Mulder pulled it off her and
the boy either didn't notice or ignored Scully's
difficulty with standing on her own.  Mulder tucked
Scully's arm around his waist, slung his around her
shoulders and hoped he could get them inside without
making a spectacle in front of this staff too.  The
boy with the luggage followed half a step behind while
Mulder approached the grinning girls.  The girls were
apparently in charge here, the boys just there for
manual labor.  He decided he'd complain in the
morning.

 'Erin,' maybe 17, if he was being kind, stepped in
 front of him.
He offered her a tight lipped grin.  She suppressed a
smile and turned back to her cronies, who giggled
amongst themselves.  "Name?"

 Scully chose to step forth from her alcoholic stupor
 and pulled
Mulder's still present name tag off his shirt. 
"There's half of it."  She giggled to herself
insanely, and the look on Erin's face was so
dumbfounded that Mulder had to laugh too.

 "It's Mulder."

 Erin actually lifted her nose in the air slightly,
 repeating the
name to herself quietly as she searched the list,
probably so she wouldn't forget it.  Pissed that this
little twerp was acting condescending towards his
partner, he amended his statement.  "Doctor and Doctor
Fox and Dana Mulder."

 Erin then offered him a small apologetic smile,
 frowning when
another girl took the list from her hands and pushed
her aside.  'Bekkie' offered him an even wider, but
still entirely fake, smile.  "I'm so sorry, sir.  That
won't happen again."  She found their name not quite
half a second later, checking them off and offering
Mulder two keys. "Room 1704. Ryan will show you the
way."  She stepped aside, allowing them to pass.

 Two steps later, Scully emitted a small strangled
 groan, and
Mulder stopped dead in his tracks.  Ryan rammed into
his back.  Before he even got the chance to apologize,
Mulder silenced the boy, offering him one of the two
keys.  He pulled his wallet out and offered Ryan a
twenty.

 "Please take our bags and leave the key on the
 dresser.  Thanks."

 Ryan nodded eagerly and vanished with the bags.  Then
 Mulder led
Scully off the dock and down the landscaped path to
the beach, where he carefully lowered her onto the
sand before flopping down beside her.  She leaned over
on him and he traced gentle circles on her back. 
After a few minutes, he laid back, pulling her with
him so that her face was resting on his neck.  He
inhaled the combination of sea air and strawberry
shampoo and sighed happily.  Scully propped herself up
on her elbow, her free hand running up and down his
chest.  He caught her eyes and smiled.  They'd
survived the cruise of death and now they had a week
of lazy days and long nights and sun and sand and each
other.

 She swiped at a piece of hair that had blown into his
 face, but
missed and poked him in the eye instead.  "Oops. 
Sorry."

 He grabbed her hand and kissed it.  "Don't worry
 about it.  I have
another one."

 She smiled again.  "At least we escaped our
 counselors, the
hellish harbingers of fun."

 Mulder laughed.  She was certainly amusing when she
 was drunk.  He
wondered if she remembered what she'd done in the
cabin.  Probably not, since she still couldn't stand
up on her own.  He could tease her about it happily
for the rest of time.  "Think we can drag ourselves to
our room?"

 She looked down, like she hadn't realized their
 location.
"Where'd I get this shirt?"

 "Julie's parting gift."

 Scully looked perplexed for a moment.  "I didn't know
 she was on a
game show."  She didn't even look annoyed when Mulder
laughed outright at her.  She was still feeling the
effects quite stronly.

 "Why don't you just sleep, Scully."  He patted his
 chest and she
settled down.  He figured he'd give her some time and
then drag her back to the room.  But there was
something about the comforting sounds of the ocean and
the light breeze and Scully's even breathing that
lulled him right to sleep.

 It was an incessant poking at his sore shoulder that
 woke him up,
almost two hours later.  He squinted and tried to
figure out the cause in the dark.  Scully was still
asleep, turned away from him now, but her head still
rested on his outstretched arm.  She wasn't guilty. 
He turned in the other direction and saw a dark shadow
hovering above him.  Shocked, he jumped up, forgetting
about Scully and pulling his arm back so quickly that
her head hit the sand with a thump.  Scully moaned and
the shadow backed up.

 Then he recognized her.  "Bekkie, right?"

 She nodded emphatically, the blonde hair that
 reminded him sharply
of Julie swinging with the motion.  "I'm so glad you
remembered!"  Oh, God, it was Julie's long lost twin. 
"Anyway, I hate to interrupt you, I know you're on
your honeymoon and you guys look so sweet together and
all, but my boss is really strict about not having
people sleep on the beach at night.  Can I show you
back to your room?"

 Mulder scratched his head, trying to rid himself of
 the sand that
had imbedded itself in his scalp.  Then he rubbed
Scully's back.  "Let's go, honey."

 She opened one eye and pouted.  "Uh huh."  Her eyes
 closed again.

 "Dana,"  He used both of his hands to pry her
 shoulders off the
ground, offering his hand to her then to pull her to
her feet.  "this wonderful young woman wants to show
us to our room.  We have to go."

 She pushed her face into his chest.  "But I wanna
 stay here."

 Bekkie smiled at Mulder.  She thought Scully was just
 tired, she
had never really grasped the concept that Scully had
been drunk earlier. She reached out and patted
Scully's arm.  "Dana?  It's nice to meet you. I'm
Bekkie."

 Scully opened her eyes again and looked up at Mulder.
  She looked
back at Bekkie.  "Hi, Julie."

 Mulder quickly apologized, explaining to Bekkie how
 very much she
looked like Dana's sister Julie.  Bekkie nodded and
admitted her own tendency to sleep deeply.  Then she
reached out and took hold of one of Dana's arms while
Mulder took the other and they began walking back to
the hotel.

 Ten steps later, Scully sort of woke up, politely
 pulling her arms
free and trudging along behind them.  Bekkie was a
little less bubbly than Julie had been and Mulder,
still inexplicably missing Julie's encouraging
presence, was happy to strike up a perfectly civil
conversation with her. Bekkie was overjoyed to explain
all about the resort and its ten miles of private
beach, although since they were the only resort there,
the whole island was kind of private.  She told him
about the small group of shops and the movie theater
that was a few miles away, within walking distance
since there were no cars on the island.  Then she
started telling him all about the programs they
offered and how it was run just like the cruise, but
with more choices and heart shaped bathtubs.  

 Scully was not only annoyed with this new Julie, but
 also with
Mulder's enraptured attitude toward her.  Then she
received the blow about the sessions and she stopped
walking.  She didn't care.  Somehow, she'd survived
that cruise, and all of the most embarrassing events
of her life on that ship and now she was being forced
to do it again.  As soon as Mulder and the bitch were
out of ear shot, she went back to her mumblings and
plopped down on the sandy planks.  If he ever noticed
she was missing, he could come find her.  

End of part 12.  Please send comments:
jzyvarek@udel.edu, eponine119@att.net

Disclaimer in part one.  For missing parts:
http://members.aol.com/shippergrl/truth.txt

The Truth
part 13
by eponine119  & Jessica Zyvarek Taylor
eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu


 Mulder followed Bekkie down the beach, aware that
 Scully was no
longer by his side.  He glanced back surreptitiously
and saw Scully pouting off into the distance.  He felt
like the parents he'd seen in stores, walking away
from their terrible toddler just to see how far he
could go before she came running after him.  He walked
farther and farther away and grew more and more
irritated with this little game of hers.  He was sure
she was sitting there thinking how much he'd forgotten
about her and that he didn't care about her. So he
turned his head and called over his shoulder, "Come
on, Scully."
 There was a sharp note in his voice but he didn't
 have to ask her twice.
A few moments later, she was once again next to him,
as though she was pleased he hadn't forgotten her
after all.  It had been several hours, so he would
have thought the effects of the drink would have worn
off, but she was behaving very emotionally - revealing
a lot of her inner insecurities.  It made him slightly
uncomfortable to see her the way she saw herself when
she was being open, and afraid.  She wanted to see if
he'd really abandon her. He'd passed the test - this
time.
 Bekkie opened the door to where they were staying. 
 The resort was a
series of separated little buildings that almost
appeared to be huts, set far apart from one another,
lending the appearance of isolation in this tropical
paradise. Bekkie nodded to them both, and then like
someone who was aware that her companions were on
their honeymoon, she took off.  There were palm trees
and lush bushes growing around the entrance to their
hut.
 But inside, it wasn't a hut at all.  It was a
 comfortably furnished hotel
room.  The bed was enormous and had mosquito netting
hanging down romantically above it, a gauzy curtain to
shut out the real world.  Mulder was pleased to notice
an entire multimedia center. He moved closed and
inspected the system. The CDs were duds, he thought -
Kenny G, Michael Bolton, The Greatest Love Songs of
All...he closed the drawer quickly.  He opened the one
next to the VCR and was surprised to see an erotic
library had been provided for their viewing pleasure. 
The titles ranged from soft porn to instructional to
dirty and nasty.  He closed the drawer before Scully
could ask what he was looking at.
 "Maybe you should go to sleep," he suggested,
 thinking she could
sleep off the rest of her drunkenness and awake her
normal charming self in the morning. He'd feel a lot
better if that happened. His eyes made another sweep
of the room and noted there was no couch.  There was a
good expanse of floor in front of the TV, he saw.  He
could sleep there.
 He heard a soft noise and looked at Scully.  She'd
 thrown herself down
onto the bed, following his orders to get some rest. 
Except she hadn't closed her eyes to go to sleep. 
Lying on her stomach, she'd propped her chin in one
hand and was staring at him with the doelike eyes of a
lovestruck teenager. That worried him.  "No, really,
get some rest," he told her, hoping she would follow
his suggestion. 
 He stepped into the bathroom, mostly just to see what
 was there.  As
promised, there was a large heart shaped
bathtub/jacuzzi.  Matching his and hers robes hung
behind the door.  Bet they lose a lot of those to
thievery, Mulder thought. If it didn't have big pink
hearts embroidered on it, he might consider nicking
one himself.  Out of the bathroom again, he saw the
intimate breakfast nook and a sliding glass door.  He
opened it and stuck his head outside.  
 What he saw took his breath away.  A small, man-made
 waterfall
cascaded from the trees in their own private cove. 
The water flowed gently into a pool formed by smooth
stones.  The sky was so clear he could see the stars
shining overhead.  It would be the perfect hideaway. 
Having spent two minutes out there, he never wanted to
leave.  He could imagine making love in the water.  He
could imagine sitting outside and talking until dawn.
 God, he loved her.
 But she was drunk or asleep in there, so he couldn't
 think about that
now.  Taking a deep breath and clearing his thoughts,
Mulder went back into their space.  As he'd suspected,
Scully was asleep on the bed. He threw a blanket
casually over her, so she wouldn't think he'd taken
too much time over it.  He sat down on the floor with
the remote control in his hand, but he couldn't do it.
He couldn't watch TV. The room was small and the sound
would wake her.  He also knew he couldn't sit there
and do nothing. He'd end up watching her.
 He looked at the watch on his wrist.  It was only
 nine-thirty. That was
still early.  He remembered Bekkie's words that there
were shops and things to do in town.   They wouldn't
all be closed already, he thought, or would they?
Regardless, taking a walk in the night air would tire
him.  Then he could sleep and they would have a fresh
start in the morning, without Matt and Julie and
without their forced counseling sessions.  It would
just be the two of them. Alone.  Ready to face their
feelings without artifice.
 He noticed something else when he was looking at his
 watch.  The
date. It was the day before Scully's birthday, and he
hadn't bought her a present yet.  Except for sending
them on this cruise, and he wasn't sure she would
think of that as a gift at this point.  She'd had a
miserable time so far and it had largely been his own
fault. He would go and find her something perfect.
Something that said how much he loved her.  Quietly,
he slipped out the door.

 Scully raised her head up from the bed, feeling
 disoriented. She knew
she wasn't on the ship any more but she wasn't certain
how she'd gotten to be where she was.  She'd been
drinking, she remembered, and hoped she hadn't done
anything she would regret in the morning.  
 Sitting all the way up, she decided she couldn't have
 been that drunk
since she didn't feel that bad.  She also knew it was
as good as morning for her.  She wasn't tired; she was
going to be up for some time.  She wondered where
Mulder was.  Scully took a wander through their rooms,
assessing them. He hadn't left her a note.   That was
fine.  She thought she'd take a walk. Maybe she'd run
into him out there and they could walk back together.
 The air was cool and it smelled good.  Scully felt
 herself relax almost
instantly. Something about this tropical air, she
thought as she walked.  The exercise, the act of
walking after so many days of being cooped up on a
ship, also felt wonderful.  In no time at all, she
found herself in a small town center. The atmosphere
was the opposite as it had been on the beach. The
beach had been quiet and still; the town was noisy
with music and voices. It reminded her of a carnival. 
The lights seemed especially bright and colorful
against the black sky.
 She continued to walk through booths of merchandise. 
 People
bickered over prices on brightly dyed fabric and
pictures painted on wood and shells from the ocean. 
There was a lot of jewelry, also, and she moved a few
steps closer. The beads and the coral were gorgeous
and their colors seemed almost unfamiliar to her.  She
had been locked into the same gray and white world for
so long that the rich scarlet reds and oranges and
yellows and purples were vivid and alive.  Scully
looked up and found a woman watching her closely,
anticipating her purchase.  Suddenly she felt
uncomfortably obligated and she walked on.
 At the center of the small town, the street doubled
 back upon itself in a
roundabout surrounding a park.  A fountain fairly
glowed as the water flowed, illuminated, up and then
down again.  Not surprisingly, this was where couples
had gathered.  Scully stood still and looked around
herself. These are the people from the cruise, she
thought.  The people who had so many problems and
followed the advice of those goofy counselors and
found peace and harmony and  a way to share themselves
with each other.  She and Mulder hadn't.
 Now it seemed that everywhere she looked there were
 couples.  They
were making out at the edge of the fountain, gazing
into each others eyes as they sat on a stone bench. 
Scully felt trapped in a bizarre nightmare - everyone
was paired off but her.  She felt dreadfully empty
suddenly and she didn't like it.  She started back to
their rooms, seeking their solitary solace, and also
hoping Mulder would be waiting there for her.  She
would have to...she now thought she
could...do...something...but she didn't know what...so
maybe she couldn't.
 The people in front of her were walking maddeningly
 slowly.  They
were a couple, of course.  The woman had long blond
hair and the man was slightly stocky.  They had their
arms around each others' waists and their hands did
not stop for a moment, each caressing the back of
their lover.  After a moment, they began to remind
Scully of horses switching their tails to drive away
flies.  It irritated her terribly.  She didn't want to
look at them.  She didn't want to be alone anymore.
 She shoved past them, walking more quickly, wanting
 to be out of this
single person's hell.  As though he had been dropped
there to please her, she saw Mulder directly in front
of her. "Mulder!" she cried, feeling relieved. Her was
her support.  She could deal with anything if he was
by her side, even these gooey lovers that were
practically swinging from the trees.  He looked up and
she charged at him, throwing her arms around his neck.
 "Scully," he said, surprised, but she could tell that
 it was a happy
surprise in his voice.  His hands went up, as though
he had thought to defend himself from her attack, but
he'd changed his mind at the last minute. Another
shocked second passed before he wrapped his arms
around her, placing his hands against her back.  She
felt warmer then, and good.
 "Mulder," she whispered, and he leaned in closer so
 he could hear her
in the midst of the crowd.  "Make love to me," she
whispered, pressing her body against his.
 He froze.  She pressed closer.  When he didn't move,
 she looked up at
him.  He looked confused.  "Scully?" he asked.
 "Mulder?" she said, knowing he was going to turn her
 down.  That he
would have turned her down even if they weren't in
public.  They weren't going to be running to bed
holding hands tonight.
 "I can't," he told her.  She raised an eyebrow, a
 signal to him that she
wasn't angry or hurt.  "Not that I *can't,*" he
clarified.  "But you're saying that, now, for the
wrong reasons."
 "Being surrounded by people who love each other and
 wanting to feel
that myself is the wrong reason?" she asked, but she
knew it was.
 Mulder pulled back out of her arms and set his hands
 on her shoulders,
looking into her eyes.  "Scully, we could make love. 
But you'll be more angry with me - and with yourself -
in the morning if we do than you are now because I've
said no."
 "You're not ready," she said.
 He nodded.  "No."
 "Thanks for your honesty," she said, then stopped and
 laughed
suddenly.  "Listen to me, maybe I did learn something
on that ship."
 "Respect?" he said, teasingly.  His tone of voice
 made her grin back. 
"It's a start."
 "It is," she agreed.  He put his arm around her waist
 and held her close
as they began their walk back.  She leaned against his
shoulder and after a second snaked her arm around his
waist too.  It felt so good to be held, she thought. 
Shivers of intensely pleasurably feeling swept through
her every time he moved his hand against her back.  It
have her that rolling feeling of desire in her stomach
again.  Had he been this frustrated that night she'd
turned him away? she wondered, but didn't feel that
she could ask him.  It seemed like he sensed what she
was feeling because he jiggled her closer against him.
 She was almost in agony by the time they reached
 their rooms.  Every
nerve ending in her body was screaming for him, crying
for release from this tension that had been created
that she knew was not going to be resolved. Not that
night. Maybe not any night.  Scully's mood began to
plummet. She'd thrown herself at him - literally - and
he'd peeled her off.
 He didn't want her.  As a doctor and an intelligent
 person, she knew
that men always being ready for sex was something of a
myth, and that she should be glad that Mulder cared
enough about her to discriminate enough to say no, but
in the middle of her intense frustration, it felt like
a terrible rejection.  It was easy to think that he
didn't want her so much that he'd pass up the
opportunity to have sex...Mulder...who hadn't done it
in a long time.  
 You don't know that, said an evil voice in her head.
 He might be out
getting it every night. Just because you don't have a
life doesn't mean he doesn't.
 She didn't want to listen to the voice in her head
 because she was
pretty sure it was misleading her because it was late
and she felt lonely. Mulder had thrown back the covers
and taken advantage of the fact that she didn't seem
to want to sleep to steal the bed from her. She didn't
care; she wasn't tired. "Mulder?" she said, wanting to
ask him something, but he didn't stir.  He was out.
Must be a lot of work fighting me off, she thought,
and smirked to herself.  The confidence to be sexual
was one of the best things a woman could do for
herself, she thought, and not for the first time.
 Which meant she didn't need his help to get what she
 wanted.  She
thought for a second of the heart shaped jacuzzi and
its hot jets of water, but turned away from the
bathroom door.  She could explore that later.  And she
still held onto the hope that she could explore that
with Mulder. She'd get to work on convincing him
tomorrow...but even as she thought it, she felt mildly
sleazy, like one of those men who courted a woman just
for sex.  But she didn't just want sex from Mulder. 
She'd already spent five years with him. That was a
hell of a long first date.
 But she couldn't find the file folder.  Scully felt a
 little funny going
through Mulder's belongings, so she didn't search very
hard.  She looked at him again and the notion crossed
her mind to strip off all her clothes and climb into
bed with him, but she knew he'd spoken the truth when
he'd said she would be embarrassed about these
thoughts in the morning. They were here to investigate
a case, no matter what that cruise had made her
believe. Besides, it would hurt too much if her
rejected her again, and under those circumstances.
 So she sat down in front of the TV without turning it
 on and wondered
what the case was about. None of those people out
there had seemed close to murder.  And murder was too
straightforward for Mulder, when she thought about it.
There would have to be ghosts...or ghoulies...or
things that went bump in the night.
 She heard a sound.
 Scully froze and listened.  There it was again. A
 thump.  Coming from
close by, outside.  It came again, and louder.  She
got to her feet, one hand on her gun, ready to
investigate and defend herself if she needed to.  She
looked at Mulder, sleeping soundly, as she walked past
him.  What a help he is, she thought as she moved
towards the sliding glass door where she'd heard the
sound.  The thumps were growing more intense and she
thought she heard a person who was crying, afraid or
hurt.
 Scully slid open the door and stepped out.  Her mouth
 dropped open as
she saw a waterfall.  The sound of the flowing water
was so soft she hadn't been able to hear it from
inside and even standing near it, it didn't drown out
the sound of the thumping or the cries.  "Who's out
here?" she called.
 Both sounds stopped instantly.  Scully lowered her
 gun and felt her
face flush.  Mystery solved, Sherlock, she thought. 
Honeymoon resort...probably everyone has one of the
gorgeous yards and waterfalls...she'd just interrupted
a couple exercising their conjugal rights.
 Which was what Scully wanted to be doing, had she be
 given half the
chance, she thought longingly.  Half the chance and a
willing partner, anyway. She felt like she should
apologize to the couple she'd intruded upon so she
called, "Sorry," over the vine-covered wall.  She
would have continued with a stumbling explanation, but
giggles stopped her.  Putting her head down, Scully
went back indoors and sat down in front of the TV
again.
 That was when the hairs on her arms stood straight up
 and a creepy
feeling overtook her.  She recognized that giggle. It
was one she had heard hundreds, thousands of times in
her life.  It had sounded like her sister. Melissa. 
Scully remained sitting on the floor even though her
legs ached to run to the next cabin and find out for
certain.  She had had this problem before.  She had
imagined this before. She had heard her sister's voice
through a telephone and it had led her to a terrible
discovery.  She didn't want it to happen again.
 I was wrong, she thought, but couldn't convince
 herself.  In a weak
moment, Scully scrambled to her feet and threw herself
onto the large bed next to Mulder.  "Huh?"  He woke at
the assault, but she just burrowed farther under the
covers and against him, aware that he probably thought
she was trying to molest him in his sleep.  She
wasn't, not anymore. She wanted to feel safe and when
he woke a little more fully, he realized that.  He put
his hand against her cold back and felt her trembling.
 "What is it?" he asked.  His voice was thick and
heavy with sleep and instinctively she moved closer to
him.  He felt her shake her head and resolved to hold
her close and make her feel safe so she could sleep.
 It wasn't long before she exhausted herself with
 whatever had upset
her, and Mulder felt her relax.  He moved her arms
from around him, arranging them on the bed so she
would be comfortable.  Determined to be a gentleman -
and not be tempted himself - Mulder moved to the other
side of the bed and closed his eyes.  When he realized
he could faintly hear the couple in the next hut
having a good, wild time, he turned his back to
Scully. He wondered again what had upset her so. But
his thoughts turned to her birthday tomorrow.  She'd
lost track of time on the ship, he was certain, and he
knew her watch didn't carry the date on it.  She would
be surprised.  He couldn't wait.

end of part 13.  Please send comments:
eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu

Disclaimer in part one.  For missing parts:
http://members.aol.com/shippergrl/truth.txt

Truth
Part 14
by Jessica Zyvarek Taylor & eponine119 
jzyvarek@udel.edu, eponine119@att.net

 When she awoke the next morning, the sun was
 streaming happily
around the edges of the closed curtains.  She yawned
and stretched and enjoyed waking up in a nice warm
bed.  She shifted around slightly and her feet found a
warm spot.  She lifted her head off the pillow,
confused for a moment, and then recognized where she
was.  She patted the pillow next to her.  Still warm. 
He hadn't been gone long.

 She looked around and when her eyes met the closed
 bathroom door,
her ears instantly picked up the sounds of water
running.  He was in the shower.  She lazily rolled
over and climbed across the bed.  Something thumped
down onto the floor when she did so.  Thinking it was
a pillow or something like that, she reached over and
grabbed.

 Her hand closed around something small and crinkly. 
 When she
looked at it, she noticed it was a small box, wrapped
in exquisitely pretty paper, a handmade bow on top. 
It was her birthday.  She'd forgotten and he
remembered.  She smiled to herself, wanting to rip off
the paper and see what he'd bought, but she felt
guilty.  She been acting like a nut, coming on to him,
backing off, doing it again, putting him in a position
she didn't envy, and he'd still gotten her something. 
She placed it on the small bedside table and stood up.
 Her first instinct was to flat refuse it.  They'd
never done much for holidays or birthdays, the most
extravagant thing either of them ever did was pick up
the check at a nice restaurant.  But refusing it would
hurt him.  So she'd have to accept it and love it and
wear it every day.  Because of the size and expensive
wrapping, she knew it was jewelry.  And every day
she'd feel guilty for wearing it out of guilt.  She
contemplated the box for another moment, the four year
old in her desperately wanting to know what it was
immediately, the adult in her wanting to know what it
was before she opened it in front of him so she would
have the correct expression on her face when she got
it.  The box was slightly too large to be a ring. 
Refusing to allow herself to feel let down at that
initial judgment, she decided it was a pair of
earrings.

 Feeling slightly better, she stood up and pulled out
 a change of
clothes, pulling on her own green one piece bathing
suit under her shorts and top.  If she never saw a
bikini again it would be too soon.  She glanced back
at the box while she fastened her sandals, pausing for
a moment to send a blessing to Julie and her tanning
cream for not letting her look like a hermit her first
day in paradise, and reached another conclusion.  The
earrings had to be expensive or he never would have
spend so much on the wrapping, which she was certain
had been done by someone else.  Gold anything would be
too plain for him.  She knew he'd never think to find
out her birthstone, so she knew it wasn't something
simple like amethyst.  Somehow, it just clicked.  It
was a pair of emerald earrings. It had to be.  She was
Irish, her hair was red, he was colorblind, and she'd
have to spend the next year, at least, looking like a
Christmas tree.  But if they were emeralds, she might
be able to get out of wearing them, claiming they were
too good and too delicate for every day use.

 Satisfied, she picked up one of the keys lying on the
 dresser and
walked out the door.  He wouldn't want her to open the
gift without him and he was taking his own good time
in the shower.  She wanted to explore a little, maybe
see some of the shops that had been closed the night
before.  Maybe if she stayed away from him for a
little while, she'd stop thinking like they were a
married couple, which would make the next few days
immeasurably more comfortable.

 The sky was beautiful, as were her surroundings and
 she found
herself humming as she walked down the path.  It was a
perfect day, just the kind for heading to the beach. 
Had she thought to grab a towel, she might have headed
there herself.  Instead, she continued toward the
shops. Each step she took, though, she felt more and
more pulled to the beach. She'd never been on an
island in the tropics.  The water was probably that
gorgeous blue and the sand that dazzling white like in
all the travel commercials.  And until Mulder produced
the damn case, she was going to dig her toes in.

 She aimed for the first store that appeared to be the
 type that
would have beach towels.  She couldn't go back to the
room, for fear Mulder had emerged from the shower and
would want to celebrate her birthday by giving her
something she didn't want for reasons that disturbed
her.  She was spending it on the beach.  She'd just
ignore the happy couples, who by all rights, should
remained locked in their little bungalows in bed. 
Leave the beach to the undercover FBI agents who were
so painfully single as to throw themselves at their
unwilling partner at every chance.

 There was no one else in the store, except for the
 saleswoman.
She was a little older than Scully's mother, but not
in nearly as good shape.  Chunky to the point that she
gave a little waddle with each step, the woman had a
decidedly teacher like quality about her.  Scully
could tell she was a kind woman and felt compelled to
be nice to her.  The woman seemed lonely.  And all
this, Scully got before either of them spoke a word.

 Waddling over, with her hand extended, she introduced
 herself.
"I'm Elizabeth.  Welcome to my boutique."

 Of course an island resort would have boutiques
 rather than
regular stores.  Gave them the right to tack an extra
digit in the price of everything they sold.  "Dana. 
It's nice to meet you."  She shook Elizabeth's hand
and looked around.  She'd never find what she was
looking for without being harassed.  So she decided,
as her birthday present to herself, to let Elizabeth
have her way and sell her things she really didn't
need and wouldn't have any use for back at home. 
Shopping was a release, it always made her feel
better.  Smiling widely, she looked at Elizabeth. 
"It's my birthday and my husband surprised me with
this trip." Elizabeth clasped a hand over her heart
and smiled, for some reason making Scully desperately
want to please her.  "He wouldn't tell me where we
were going, so I'm packed for the wrong occasion.  Can
you help me out?"

 Elizabeth patted Scully on then back, leading her to
 a rack just
inside the door.  "You pick out a new pair of
sunglasses.  I'll be right back."  Scully did as
instructed, not looking at the price tag.  She knew
she wouldn't want to know anyway, especially not when
she thought about what she'd just signed herself up
for.  "Here, try this on, the dressing room is in the
back."

 Scully took one look at the bikini and shook her
 head.  "No, no
bikinis."

 Elizabeth ignored her and prodded Scully back to the
 dressing
room, tossing her the suit and pulling the curtain
shut.  The voice was distant, obviously hunting up
more things for Scully to regret getting talked into,
when it returned.  "You're a young woman.  Wear it
now. When you get to my age, nobody, including that
husband of yours, will want you in a bikini."

 "My husband doesn't want me when I throw myself at
 him and beg."
Grumbling to herself, she pulled it on.  It was
slightly more tasteful that the one she'd worn to the
luau, but it was still two pieces.  Not a Scully suit.
 She pulled it off and waited for Elizabeth's next
offering. A white suit.  Still a bikini, but it
contrasted nicely with her tan skin. She liked it. 
She'd never wear it again, but it didn't bother her. 
She'd wear it today and that was the goal.

 "Elizabeth?  I like this one."

 Elizabeth pulled her out of the room and in front of
 the three way
mirror.  Scully squeezed her eyes shut.  Just because
she was wearing it didn't mean she wanted to think
about it.  She let Elizabeth stare, for a moment
before heading back to the dressing room.  The
discarded suit she'd had for years looked so much more
comfortable.  She ignored the urge to put it back on. 
Elizabeth took her arm, though, and led her to another
rack.  

 "You don't cover a suit like that with shorts and a
 shirt."

 Scully looked at the group of colorfully printed
 scarves and
gaped.  No.  She couldn't.  Could she?  Even as she
thought it, Elizabeth selected one and tied the sarong
around her elegantly.  Instantly liking the silky feel
of the material against her legs, she felt her
backbone snap.  "OK, Elizabeth, I'll take it."  Seeing
the smile and fearing more pressure, she held up her
hands.  "I want to buy a beach towel and sunscreen and
that's it.  No more."

 Elizabeth nodded and Scully gathered her things,
 dumping her
discarded clothes into the straw bag Elizabeth
offered.  Elizabeth was manipulative, and by the time
she slapped the credit card down on the counter,
Scully owned a beach pillow, special moisturizing
sunscreen for her face and a straw hat that she knew
she'd never, ever put on her head. But seeing
Elizabeth's face, she smiled too.  At least she'd made
someone happy on her birthday, even if it wasn't
herself.

 She started walking toward the sound of the ocean
 when something
caught her eye.  A woman across the street had tossed
her hair in a strangely familiar way.  Scully lifted
her sunglasses and squinted.  The hair was bright red,
like her own, but much longer, almost to the woman's
waist, and wavier.  She heard the giggle waft through
the air.  The same one she'd heard the night before. 
The one that belonged to Melissa.

 Scully followed, her previous aims lost to her then,
 as the woman
and her companion started walking.  She was the right
height, right weight, and wearing the right light blue
bathing suit that Melissa had loved.  The walk was the
same, steady, yet slightly bouncy, giving a hint of
the contrasting personality within the body.  The
Melissa impostor was holding hands with a man, who
looked even more out of place on the island than
Scully herself did.  He was wearing jeans.  Skin tight
black jeans. Scully could feel the beads of sweat on
her skin and knew the man was out of his mind.  With
the perfect view of the greasy looking guy to pass
judgment, she decided the woman was in her right mind.
 The guy had a nice ass.  And Scully knew for a fact
that was the first thing Melissa went for.  

 They didn't notice her presence shadowing them as
 they walked.
They were too much in love.  They stopped no less than
ten times to kiss, always for a long, slow, passionate
kiss.  Every time, Scully would stop too, burying her
face in her bag.  At one point, Scully called out.

 "Missy?"  The kiss stopped and the woman turned.

 Shocked, Scully moved behind a group of people
 walking past.  It
couldn't be her.  Missy was dead.  Had been for two
years.  Continuing with the group she'd joined, not
looking again at the Melissa wannabe, Scully headed
back to the room, suddenly feeling ridiculously stupid
in the new clothes.  She wanted her old ones.

 Thankfully, Mulder wasn't in the bedroom when she
 returned.  She
peered out the window at the waterfall and saw him
standing there, staring at nothing.  She took her bags
into the bathroom and got dressed in the stuff she'd
worn out that morning, but she left on the white
bathing

suit. She stuffed the other things into the bag and
vowed to destroy the evidence before Mulder saw it. 
But he was waiting for her when she emerged, sitting
right in the middle of the bed, turning something over
in his hands.

 "What's in the bag?"  His face was blank, giving no
 hint of the
storm brewing just under the surface.  He'd left her
present laying there so that she wouldn't miss it,
just in case she woke up before he got finished with
his shower.  And she'd left it there.  She'd dressed
and then left it there and wandered off without so
much as calling in to the bathroom or leaving him a
note.  Where was the Scully that wouldn't leave his
side the night before?

 She shrugged, afraid of the teasing she'd get if he
 ever found
out.  "Stuff."

 He nodded, acting like she'd offered him an
 intricately detailed
answer and was thinking it over.  "Oh, stuff."

 She dropped the bag on the floor, pushed it under the
 bed, and
then toed her suitcase in front of it, trying to act
casual since he was watching her.  Done with hiding
her bag, she joined him on the bed, seeing the bold
way he backed up when their knees brushed.  She'd
obviously gone too far.  And rather than tell her
that, he had to be rude.  She pulled her knees in to
her chest and hugged them.  "Yes, stuff."

 "I'm glad you told me you were leaving."  His hands
 continued to
fiddle with the box, but she hadn't seen it yet.

 "Was I supposed to join you in the shower?"  At his
 cold glare,
she continued.  "I mean, after last night I assumed
you'd rather be alone."  It wasn't often that she
threw herself at a man, actually, it was never.  She
wasn't about to get burned and not harbor a grudge. 
She understood why he'd refused her, but she still
hated that he been flattered enough to at least
consider it.

 "How's your leg?" His sudden topic change left her
 speechless.
She'd been expecting a cutting blow, or a rude comment
at the very least. That was the way they'd been
working the last three days: one of them got mad for
no apparent reason, the other got annoyed, they argued
back and forth and hurt each other's feelings and
later found out it was just a misunderstanding.  "Let
me see it, Scully.  The doctor said you have to keep
something on it, didn't he?"

 The thought of dropping her shorts in front of him
 bugged her,
regardless of the perfectly plain bathing suit she was
wearing.  He wasn't asking out of concern.  He knew
how much being exposed to him would bother her when
they were fighting and she didn't like it.  She
snapped at him. "I'm a doctor.  I can take care of
myself."  

 "Like you took care of yourself last night?  Maybe
 you missed it,
you probably did since you were completely drunk and
all, but I drug your ass off that boat and in here."

 Her face flushed.  She did hate losing control.  But
 she'd thought
she could trust him.  Her chin trembled slightly
before rage overtook her. She pushed herself off the
bed, scraping the bandage along the blister and
wincing at the sharp pain, but pulling herself
together quickly enough to avoid Mulder's attempt to
catch her.  "As I recall, you were perfectly content
to leave me on the beach.  Remind me not to ever trust
you with my back turned."  She knew calling him on
that tiny betrayal of trust, his mention of her being
drunk, was hitting below the belt, but so was his
insinuation that she needed him.  She didn't need
anyone.  Tears of frustration, or so she told herself,
filled her eyes as she twisted around and picked at
the tape on her leg.

 He bit back his stinging retort when he saw her
 wince.  He reached
out, wanting to steady her, to offer his support and
tried not to wince himself as she walked away.  He
said nothing as he watched her try to pull off the
tape.  She didn't want his help, she'd made that much
clear.  She eventually succeeded, after rolling her
shorts up quite a bit.  He hadn't realized just how
far up the burn had been.  

 Once the tape was removed and she started working at
 the gauze, he
saw her hand shake.  The gauze was stuck, attached in
a none too pleasant way to the broken blisters
underneath.  He couldn't watch her hurt herself.  The
way she had to reach to get at it offered her no view
of what she was doing.  She was bound to wind up with
an infection and the only thing he could picture worse
than this mess he'd drug her into was landing her in
the hospital on her birthday.  He dropped the box back
on the bed and moved to help her.

 He was knelt behind her, and gently started working
 the bandage
away from her skin.  She hadn't noticed his approach
since she was wrapped up in how to finish proving her
painful point without letting him know she was
hurting.  Her leg jerked forward when he touched it,
but she didn't say anything and she didn't stop him. 
He took it as permission.  A few minutes later, he'd
worked the gauze all the way off, only hearing one
tiny yelp from her.  

 When he didn't say anything, she knew it was bad. 
 She twisted to
look at him and wished she hadn't because of the way
it pulled the skin on her leg.  She felt his hands
brace her hips.  "Stay still.  Let me get some
tissue."   The moment he stepped into the bathroom,
she twisted again, and saw the gauze.  There was some
blood on it and she knew she'd torn it open.  And
knowing that it was bleeding made it hurt worse.  She
walked carefully back over to the bed and rested on
her stomach, waiting for Mulder to come back and begin
what she knew would be a painstaking process of
doctoring her back up.

 She felt something pressing into her side and reached
 to grab it,
finding his gift once again.  She took it between her
fingers and played with the wrapped box, knowing that
it was the cause of his anger, but not understanding
why.  She was staring at it thoughtfully when he
settled next to her on the bed.

 "If you don't want it, I'll take it back and get you
 something
else."  He began cleaning off the wound, using the
utmost care possible. She didn't answer.  His next
words were quiet.  "I thought you'd at least open it."

 She closed her eyes tightly, wishing he wasn't there
 so she could
smack herself.  What had led to another fight? 
Another miscommunication. Her answering voice was just
as quiet.  "I didn't think you'd want me to open it
without you."

 "I left it for you.  I assumed that way you could
 make faces and
hate it openly and still lie to me and tell me you
loved it."

 She reached back and snagged on of his hands.  "I'm
 sorry.  I
wasn't thinking."

 She heard the sound of him tearing open a new gauze
 pad and felt
him tape it to her leg.  Then he stretched out beside
her, propping his head up on his hand and facing her. 
She mirrored his position.  "Happy birthday, Scully."

 She smiled and waited for him to nod toward the box
 before she
carefully unwrapped it, separating the tape from the
paper, not wanting to rip it and appear even the
slightest bit callous.  She didn't care what it was
anymore.  He'd gone out and picked it, thinking only
of her and he was watching her with eager eyes and an
unguarded smile as she removed the velvet covered box.
Before she snapped open the lid, she looked at him,
meeting his eye and knowing they would have to
apologize for their harsh words, words that were
already forgotten about.

 "Mulder, I want you to know, right now, that I love
 it."

 "You haven't even looked at it,  Scully."

 She held the box in one hand and took his hand with
 the other.
"You got it for me.  I love it."

 Then she let go of his hand, smiling brightly when he
 draped his
arm over her back and rolled onto his stomach so that
he was lying right up against her.  Personal space be
damned, she liked him right where he was.  She
regarded him for a long moment, loving the happy shine
in his beautiful hazel eyes, hoping the love shone
back just as brightly in hers. Her attention went back
to the matter at hand and she opened the top, gasping
in shock when she saw what was inside.

End of part 14. Please send comments: