From xangst@frii.com Wed Oct 16 06:14:53 1996 DEVIL s ADVOCATE (part 8) The "Unofficial" X Philes Novel by: CHERYL COHEN and ANNIE REED aka ImAStinker and FancyKatz @ aol.com Dana emerged about forty-five minutes later and smiled at Moorehouse for the first time since they'd met. "He's gonna be okay," she said with relief. "Thanks for your help. Doc's got him in his 'reserved' cot snoring away and has promised to keep an eye on him for the next couple of hours. Fox has a tendency to 'wander' off without informing concerned parties of his intentions or whereabouts. So if he so much as flinches in an unauthorized manner, Doctor Johnson has promised to let me know. Now....where were we before this disaster struck???" Once again, Moorehouse was impressed. She just finished stitching up her partner and here she was, raring to go. "Well, I'd say we've got a least two more people that I'd really like to interview," he replied. "O'Keefe and Kopec." "Mrs. O'Keefe You suspect that little old lady? Mulder did, too," Dana mused. "I don't know if I'd call her a 'suspect' or not, but a couple of people in the gym put her there at the time of Hubbard's accident, and she wasn't working out." Dana raised one eyebrow at that. What in the world would Mrs. O'Keefe be doing in the gym....she wasn't even one of the finalists, so she wouldn't have been in there looking for clues. "Unfortunately, I have no idea where either one of them might be at this very moment," Moorehouse continued. "I haven't seen Mrs. O'Keefe or Kopec since the incident in the gym. From what the stewards tell me, Mrs. O'Keefe seldom leaves her room. I'll bet ten to one odds that Kopec is warming a bar stool somewhere. Bar hopping....terrific. Just what she needed on top of the day she'd already had. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ward off the headache tht was threatening to descend. Moorehouse looked at her closely. He was getting to know her well enough now that he could see the tension in the tight lines around her eyes and her mouth. "Hey, how about a break before we get going again?" he suggested. "I don't know about you, but I could use a little fresh air." Dana readily agreed, and they headed for the pool. The follower was gaining ground, growing stronger with time. It still had trouble sensing the hunter, but with the unexpected help of one of the beings on this vessel, it had nearly caught him this last time. But at the last second the hunter had backed off from this being and fled into the darkness of the ship. The follower had paused just long enough in its pursuit to register the presence of the observer. That in itself was surprising....the follower knew that its actions, as well as those of the hunter, were being observed, but never before had it seen the observer. Something was different this time. The follower drew stength from that fact...maybe it meant that this time it would be victorious over the hunter, that its millenia-long struggle would be at an end. The follower did not want to contemplate the alternative. Dana sat down at a table by the pool to momentarily rest her feet....even though they hadn't blistered like Mulder's, they were still sore. She idly picked up the National Inquisitor and thumbed through the rag while Jake went to get her a desperately needed iced tea. She was just about to toss it on the chair next to her when an article caught her eye...an article in the scandal sheet section written by none other than Karl Kopec. This wouldn't have normally been a big deal since Kopec *did* work for the infamous tabloid....but the article was about Oneida Darkhorse and her 'sordid' love affairs. Dana quickly read the article. Perhaps this was the connection that they'd been searching for. Of course, all of these people would have known each other from taking this cruise for the last three weeks. But this paper was last months issue. Which meant that Kopec had known about Oneida *before* he'd met her on the ship. And he'd written one damnable article about her various sexual escapades. How odd that Oneida didn't seem to know about the article or the man who wrote it. Odder still was the fact that everbody's brother seemed to know about her affair with Jason and her pregnancy, but Kopec didn't even appear to be the least bit interested with this new, *really scandalous* aspect of the story. Why not? Unless....unless someone had paid him to keep his mouth shut about that. And if he took monery to keep himself quiet, it wasn't that big of a stretch to believe that he would take money to keep someone else's mouth shut...maybe two other mouths. Dana tried to think of all the times she'd seen Kopec on this cruise, to visualize what he'd been doing. This little exercise only served to point out to her that she hadn't seen that much of Kopec at all except when he was hanging around the murder scenes. When Jake returned, Dana showed him the article and voiced her suspicions about Kopec. "I don't know, Jake. I just can't shake the feeling that Karl Kopec is somehow involved in all of this. Maybe we should check him out next and see what we can turn up." If Mulder were here, he'd probably have made some incredible leap in logic and had the whole thing worked out already....sometimes his 'insight' really *was* 'spooky'. Dana had to remind herself that this wasn't Mulder -- this was Jake -- and she wasn't exactly sure what his reaction to her theory would be. So she waited patiently for him to sort things out and give her his opinion. Kopec, huh? Jake found himself really liking that idea. There was a certain neat logic involved here. Karl'd been seen in the gym, too, right before Hubbard died. Put two and two together, and you had opportunity and motive. The little weasel probably *was* responsible for at least two of these so called accidents. The thought of cuffing and arresting that rumor-monging terd warmed him from the top of his head right down to the tip of his toes. He grinned at Dana and nodded, "Well, if you have a hunch about this guy, maybe we should just pay him a 'friendly visit' and see what kind of slime spews outta this nut when we crack him." Dana viewed Jake with a patient skowl. "Moorehouse, you're just so damn descriptively poetic...Mulder can't hold a candle to you in terms of grossness." "Hey, was that a compliment?" he asked gruffly. "Who the hell knows," she sighed. "Let's go find Kopec....on second thought, maybe we should wait for Mulder. He's one of the best interviewers I have ever known....and Jake, I'm not just saying that because he's my partner....it's true. I'd feel a lot better if he could be there." Jake snorted and replied, "hell, I know the kid's good....but it's only been an hour since you were stitiching his guts back together, and I doubt Doc Johnson's gonna let him outta his sight for a least another hour. By that time Kopec could very well ditch the evidence...if, of course, there is any.... and we'd be left with nothing but suspicions that we can't prove. I think Mulder would tell you to 'go for it'." "Well, in that case Detective Moorehouse, what do you suggest we do first...a little 'bar hopping' or a quick visit to Kopec's quarters?" she inquired, knowing from Jake's reaction to the reporter that he'd probably already done a study of the man's habits. Jake rubbed his stubbled chin, checked his watch. "I'd say he's more than likely visited every lounge and bar on the ship by now and is 'resting' in his cabin," he replied thoughtfully. "But that's just a hunch." "Now *that* I can deal with," she laughed suddenly. "My partner puts a great deal of faith in 'hunches' and I hate to admit it, but most of the time.....he's right. We'll play your hunch, Jake....Let's go." Mulder could sense the creature even within his drug-induced dreams. It stalked the ship's corridors, unseen by the innocent victims that it hunted. At first, Mulder had feared this evil monster, this horrid being that fed off of the terror and pain of those it destroyed. But now...now, even though there was still fear in his heart, there was also anger. The instinctive protectiveness of his nature took over and a righteous rage overpowered his fear. He remembered seeing the 'other' shadow that had pursued this predator...he could also feel its presence close by....and was surprised to find that it reminded him...of himself. He sensed its determination to win this final showdown....and something inside of him knew that it was 'indeed' final. He wanted to help, he *needed* to help...he could not simply stay still and silent on the sidelines while this momentous battle raged on about him, not while innocent people were being slaughtered. He opened his mind to the other, begging for an opportunity to help it in this battle....and his call was answered. To his surprise, he found that he was not 'helpless'...he could do something, and he would. For all of the "other's" great strength, it could not always locate the hunter....but Mulder could. He could 'feel' his presence in the air...smell the stench that radiated from this being. He didn't know why....but he could. But there is danger here, the follower warned. The hunter knows you can sense him....he will attempt to lure you to destruction. But Mulder didn't care about that....it was his job to protect the innocents from predators, both from within and without this world's physical boundaries. He was not about to stop now. Mulder would follow the hunter....and so would the 'other'. If the 'other' needed him as 'bait', he would comply....no other innocent beings need die at the hands of this monster. It will be soon, the follower told him. They were nearing the center...and the hunter would come to eliminate him, for a creature as evil as the hunter could only be returned to hell while they were in the center. And the hunter would risk no threats to his continued existence in this world. Fox awoke slowly, remembering his vision. He could not remain here....there was so little time left and so much to do. He was stiff and in a great deal of pain, and he winced as he carefully pushed himself up from the cot into a sitting position. The noxious odor of burned flesh permeated the room. Mulder twisted his body slowly to discover the source. The partially blackened figure of Dr. Johnson was stiffly propped up against the bottom cabinets of the washup sink, the crackling hiss of the sterilizer's electrical voltage as it met filling the air with ozone. Fighting the urge to vomit, Mulder stood swaying unsteadily on his feet. He put out a hand on the counter to steady himself and noticed the words scrawled on the countertop. He read the message that had been written into a thick layer of powder that had spilled over the counter's gleaming formica surface. "Dana's doomed...in the engine room" "Asshole thinks he's a fucking literary giant," he mumbled under his breath, with disgust. "He wants me to go to the engine room," he shouted out loud to what appeared to be an empty room...but he *knew* the 'other' was there...he could almost see him, too. "Just who do you think you're talking to, my dear boy?" Dr. Jay's voice echoed behind him. "You know damn well who I'm talking to, so don't feign ignorance with me," Mulder growled. "If I turn around are you still gonna be there, or am I gonna have to look at empty space again?" "Oh, I'll still be here," Dr. Jay mused. "Not too fond of my exits, eh?" Mulder turned around and faced the little man. "Oh, I'd say I'm about as fond of your exits as your 'entrances'. You know about all of this don't you? Who the hell *are* you? What is this 'thing'?" Dr. Jay thought for a few moments, pondering exactly how much he 'could' tell Mulder, and came to a decision. After all, the boy was right in the middle of this situation, like it or not, and as with all intelligent beings, he did have the right to know at least something about what he was getting into. "Yes....I do know something about what's happening here," Dr. Jay admitted with a sigh. "I am what you might call an 'observer'. I am not supposed to get involved, only report the outcome. And you, my friend, make that *extremely* difficult." Dr. Jay looked over at the charred remains of the ship's doctor, shaking his head sadly. "This 'thing' as you call it...the hunter....well, I suppose it is somewhat akin to *your* version of an escaped 'serial killer'. The 'other'--the follower, as you think of him, performs the same task as you do in this dimension....and I must say that he does his job with the same ruthless determination. You would like him. In another reality, the two of you would be friends. Perhaps that is why it took time from its pursuit to try and warn you," Dr. Jay mused. "You mean those messages in the mirror, and the hallucinations I had involving danger, were warnings from the follower?" Mulder asked. Dr. Jay shook his head yes. "And as you have no doubt deduced, this time and place is the follower's last chance to capture this fiend and return him to his prison. I had not expected you to be involved with this my dear boy...I should have known." With a stern look of resolution, Mulder accepted Dr. Jay's explanation. He'd always had a feeling that the little man wasn't quite what he appeared to be. He found that the revelation of the reason behind Dr. Jay's presence here was not in the least bit surprising. He gestured toward the countertop. "This thing says Dana's in the engine room...and it wants me there." "It's a trap, you know," Dr. Jay commented. "Of course I know," Mulder snapped. "I may not be of a 'higher' alien intelligence, but I'm not a total retard either." "Don't sell yourself short," Dr. Jay countered. "You don't have all the information." "In any case, if this thing wants me....it's gonna get me....Let's help the 'follower' go kick some ass. Are you coming or not?" Mulder asked tersely. He didn't wait for a reply, just stormed out the door, holding on to his side. He'd begun to bleed again, but he was beyond noticing. "Right behind you, dear friend," Dr. Jay retorted. Dana and Moorehouse stopped in front of Kopec's cabin. Moorehouse moved over to the side...covering their back, Dana noticed with approval. She knocked on the door. "Mr. Kopec, this is Dana Sc....Mulder. Could I have a few words with you, please?" There was no immediate response to her knock. They waited patiently for a few minutes. Dana was just about ready to try knocking again, only a little harder this time, when the door slowly opened, revealing a very disheveled and obviously hungover Karl Kopec. He smiled generously when he saw Dana, but as the door opened wider to reveal Moorehouse, a decidedly ominous frown appeared on his face. "What do you want?" Kopec growled. "I'm a very busy man." "May we come in and ask you a few questions?" she asked politely. "Sure, why not? He's a cop," Kopec said, gesturing at Moorehouse. "He's gonna come in one way or another, so we might as well make this cordial....Like I said, what do you want? Decide to pool your resources to solve this little mystery?" "Something like that," Jake grumbled. "We'd like to ask you about your relationship to Oneida Darkhorse," Dana said in a leading tone. "What relationship?" Kopec asked nervously. "I met the woman on the cruise...and she died...that's about it." Dana walked over toward the small dresser that sat along the far wall. On it she noticed a small motion sickness patch, unused. Now that she thought of it, she'd *never* seen Kopec *ever* wear one during the entire cruise....what was this one doing on his dresser? She bet that if they searched his room, they'd find the rest of the package of Scopolomine patches. And she had a 'hunch' that on closer inspection, they'd find the screwdriver that ushered in Jason Hubbard's demise too. It had to be about money, she thought. As far as she could tell, he had no ' personal' reason to off the couple.....unless someone had threatened him or 'paid' him in some way. Moorehouse cut in, "if you didn't know her before the cruise, how is it you were able to write a very 'detailed' article in your rag mag last month about the woman's love life?" "You'd be surprised how much I can write about someone I don't know," Kopec insisted. "All it takes is a few interviews with the right people, a little money in the right hands...My boss isn't exactly a stickler for getting an 'official' reply from whoever he decides to skewer. I never had to meet the lady." "So much for honest journalism, eh, Kopec?" Moorehouse scoffed. "Mr. Kopec, do you get seasick often?" Scully interjected. "I didn't notice you ever wearing a patch." She held up the offending patch and examined it more closely for effect. "You wouldn't happen to have a screwdriver just lying around in here too...would you?" Kopec paled at the question...Dana could smell the sour stench of alcohol pouring off the man as his forehead broke out in a cold sweat. She had him on the run and decided to pull what she referred to as 'Mulder'. "Mr. Kopec....why did you kill Oneida and Jason?" she asked with positive certainty. Kopec's knees nearly buckled when he heard the question...."You think *I* killed those two?" he managed to ask through his suddenly dry throat. His eyes darted back and forth between Jake and Dana, looking for all the world like a deer caught in the headluights of a speeding car. "You can't be serious!" Moorehouse glanced over at Dana before he returned his attention to Kopec. "Oh, I think we're pretty serious alright. How about you? Are *you* serious?" Jake asked, advancing on the cringing reporter. "Murder is a serious business, Mr. Kopec. And Mrs. Mulder there is holding some serious evidence that can put you away for a long, long time, you scumbag. So if you've got something to say to us, you'd better say it quick, before I suddenly remember that we're in international waters and I don't have to answer to my captain for my actions." Kopec quit backing up when his butt hit the cabin wall. He felt trapped....literally. Moorehouse may have been about the same height as he was, but the detective was bulkier and obviously had a lot of practice using that bulk to his advantage. Karl didn't know how he'd get out of this one. Considering what had nearly happened to him this morning, maybe a nice, safe jail cell wouldn't be so bad. At least he'd still be alive. He was spared that decision when his cabin door flew open and a yellow blur pounced into the room and bounded onto his bed, yowling at the top of its lungs. Dana burst out in a fit of sneezes, and Moorehouse turned around to glare at the intruder. Kopec saw his chance, sidestepped Moorehouse and flew out the door and down the hall. Jake took off in pursuit. Dana shoved the patch into her pocket and followed Moorehouse, sneezing and trying to see through her watery, itchy eyes. Damn cat, she thought. A lone figure appeared in the doorway of Kopec's cabin and entered the room. "Bad kitty...now look what you've done," Mrs. O'Keefe scolded as she retrieved the patches from the dresser. She rummaged quickly through the drawers until she found the screwdriver, which she placed in the pocket of her sweater, along with the package of patches. "I don't believe Mr. Kopec will be needing these, do you?" she mumbled in an unfamiliar gravelly voice. The cat yowled in response. "No, I didn't think so," she said with a sinister laugh. She picked up the cat from the bed, her fingers playing absently with its jeweled collar. "Come on, you worthless fleabag. Although you did earn your keep this time," Mrs. O'Keefe said, scratching the cat under its chin. The cat flattened its ears against its skull, its eyes dark and round with feline anger, a growl building in the back of its throat. "Let's go take care of some 'unfinished' business.....I do believe I know where he'll go." Mrs. O'Keefe walked hurriedly down the corridor in the opposite direction. On arriving at her destination, she expertly circumvented the lock on Oneida Darkhorse's old cabin and slipped inside. Mulder painfully picked up his pace in an effort to get to the engine room before what Dr. Jay referred to as "the hunter" could harm anyone else...specifically Dana. The thing had mentioned her by name and he had no doubt that it would use her to draw him out. What the hunter didn't know was that he wouldn't come alone. He would bring the 'other' and Dr. Jay with him. Granted, Dr. Jay was ordered to remain neutral. But somehow he also sensed that his unusual friend was growing dissatisfied with his 'duties' as they were dictated to him. In the end, and if it became necessary, Mulder felt that Dr. Jay might surrender to his urge to act. Mulder sincerely hoped that wouldn't be necessary...not only for his friend's sake, but also for his own. Because if Dr. Jay had to act, that would mean that Mulder couldn't, and there was only one thing that was going to prevent him from fighting this battle...his own death. Karl stopped in a darkened hatchway for a moment to catch his breath. He should have taken up aerobics years ago, he thought. You never know when you're gonna have to run for your life, and being in shape would have made it a hell of a lot easier. Although in his case, adrenalin had been a good substitute. He risked a peek into the corridor...no one seemed to be following him. Maybe he'd lost them. Now if he could only stay lost until this damn ship docked. Once on dry land, the contacts he'd made over the years would help him stay lost permanently. He'd just have to stay alive until then. His contacts....he snorted with disgust. One in particular had certainly played him for a sucker this time around. Sure, the money had been an incentive, but dangle a good job in front of him...that was the real carrot. A job covering the city beat for The Washington Post....heaven for someone like him who'd been buried in the supermarket tabloids for more years than he cared to remember. Well, he could kiss all that goodbye now....he'd be lucky if he wound up pumping gas at some dusty truckstop in the middle of the Nevada desert. He had to find someplace to hide for the rest of the cruise, but he was a little short on options. His fingers dug around nervously in his pockets.....hell, he didn't even have his favorite little flask with him. This was gonna be a dry couple of days. Then his fingers tightened around the key. That was an idea....maybe he could go there. Who would think to look for him in the cabin of a dead woman? Moorehouse stopped in front of the door and nodded to Dana. "Are you sure about this?" he asked with just a tinge of doubt. "I'm not *sure* about anything," she replied with a shrug, "but what could it hurt to check?" "Not a damn thing, Ms. FBI....Not one damn thing..." he grunted as he kicked in the door to Oneida Darkorse's cabin. "Looks like you were right after all....he's definitely here...." Jake stepped back and pointed to the body that was suspended only a few inches from the floor, swaying gently from the ceiling fan. "Guess he didn't want to go to jail," he commented with a snicker. Dana stepped forward and studied the body more closely and then began to wheeze and sneeze...again. Shit. "Jake," she managed to get out between sneezes, "he was dead before he was hung....someone else killed him. Believe me, I'm a pathologist. There are certain physical things that happen when a person is hung...and they're *not* present in this case." She sneezed again and her eyes began to water. "Getting a cold or something?" Jake asked after her third round of sneezing began. She sounded terrible. "No, I just have an allergy to....cats..." she trailed off, thinking about what her body was telling her. She'd had an attack when Mrs. O'Keefe's cat had barged into Kopec's cabin. A quick look around Oneida's cabin confirmed that they were the only ones here, along with Kopec's gently swaying body. "Jake, the only person on this ship with a cat is Mrs. O'Keefe and now I'm sneezing my head off...Her cat was here, and not too long ago either." Another sneeze interrupted her. "I don't usually get this bad unless I'm in the same room as a cat....or if a cat was just in the same room I'm in. And if that damn cat was here, so was Mrs. O'Keefe." She sneezed again. "I gotta get out of here or my eyes are gonna swell up and I won't be any use to anybody. Trust me...it's not a pretty sight." Moorehouse and Dana moved back out into the corridor, shutting the door on the grisly sight. They'd have to haul the body down sooner or later, but right now Dana was more worried about yet another human murderer on board. Jake offered Dana a tissue and she blotted her watering eyes. "Never did see the sense of carrying a hankie," he explained. "Those you gotta wash....these you just throw away. Simpler. Life's already too complicated." "And it just got worse," Dana commented. "Our prime suspect is in there dangling from the ceiling. Someone wants us to think he committed suicide...God, maybe this thing goes higher up than a lowly tabloid reporter out after some easy money or whatever else he was offered." "You think someone was hired to knock off Kopec after he offed Oneida and Hubbard?" Moorehouse asked. Dana nodded. "We made an assumption that someone...more than likely Oneida's husband, the upstanding Senator Weston....hired Kopec to kill his unfaithful wife and her lover to prevent years of blackmail and a potentially disasterous political scandal. If that's the case, he certainly couldn't offord to leave witnesses and evidence lying around that could be traced back to him...could he?" "Come on, Scully...you're joking, right? You're not trying to tell me that the old *Bat* is really a 'hit woman'...." Moorehouse tittered in disbelief. "Kopec wasn't exactly a lightweight. Whoever did that," Jake said, pointing in the general direction of the body, "had to have some pretty good upper body strength." "Well maybe, just maybe, the old bat is not what she appears to be," Dana argued. "Have you seen very much of her on this trip?" "No, now that you mention it, she spent most of her time in her cabin," he replied with suspicion creeping into his voice. "What better place to hide a guy's bulk than under all those little ole lady layers, right?" Dana nodded...her thoughts exactly. "Race you to the old lady's cabin...." Moorehouse said. Dana hung on to the tissue Moorehouse had given her...where they were headed, she was gonna need it. Dr. Jay figured he should pay more attention to his physical training. This young man could 'run', even injured, and he was having a difficult time keeping up. In another reality, Mulder would not have been able to 'touch' him in a race, but here....this was a different story. Having to move through atmosphere could really slow a person down. Mulder made it down to the engine room about a length ahead of him and that was with a nasty injury handicapping him. Mulder was about 50 yards ahead of the good doctor when the explosion rocked the ship. Flames darted menacingly from the entrance and the wails of trapped passengers who had been taking a tour of the engine room echoed hurtfully in his ears. Mulder hesitated briefly, then thought of Dana....trapped somewhere in that hell. He considered all the people who would die if he wasn't there to locate the hunter for the 'other'. This is what he had always wanted, what he was here for...to make a difference... and he *could* make a difference here. Despite his deep seated fear of fire, he rushed forward through the entrance before Dr. Jay could stop him. Searching through the smoke and debris, he came upon the obviously nude body of a woman. The body was the same size and shape as Scully, but the upper half had been burned beyond recognition, the remaining clothes only charred tatters. Mulder dropped to his knees beside the body, the fire around him forgotten as darkness and despair settled in his soul. Dr. Jay came up slowly behind him and rested a comforting hand on Mulder's shoulder. Young eyes turned to look at ancient ones and the absolute desolation that Dr. Jay saw upon his friend's face burned straight through to his equally ancient soul. Mulder cried in anguish as he felt the air grow heavy with the hunter's evil presence. The familiar stench eclipsed the room...even overpowering the smell of burning flesh around him. Fox summoned all his anger, concentrating as he had never done before, and was rewarded as the entity's form shimmered into reality before him. He screamed with rage for the 'other' to hear...."There's your piece of shit! Damnation to Hell is too good for the son of a bitch....make him pay!" he cried. "Goddamn it, you make him pay," he sobbed. (continued part 9) M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous ELVIS PRESLEY, DEAD AT 42 and Myth Patrol "Oh, no!" Construction Site -- Mulder, "Home" "Meanwhile, I've quit the FBI, and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller." -- Scully, "Home" xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - ********************************************************************** From xangst@frii.com Thu Oct 17 07:07:14 1996 DEVIL s ADVOCATE (part 9) The "Unofficial" X Philes Novel by: CHERYL COHEN and ANNIE REED aka ImAStinker and FancyKatz @ aol.com Moorehouse stood in front of yet another cabin door. He looked to Dana with a somewhat sheepish expression as he brought his foot up to kick it in. Dana put her hand up to stop him. "Before you knock it down...at least see if it's open," she suggested. "Why would the moron leave the freaking door open?" he commented doubtfully. "So they could have a good laugh when morons like you take the extra time to kick it in," she countered with a grin. Dana tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. Mooreshouse merely shrugged his shoulders as they entered the empty room. Empty that is, except for a wig, a dress, several pairs of support hose, a pair of boxer shorts, and a very complicated latex mask sitting on a styrofoam wig holder. An empty wig holder sat on top of the dresser, along with jars of heavy pancake makeup. "Great...by now whoever this is has probably dumped the disguise. Looks like we don't know *who* we're looking for now...." Jake commented with just a little confusion. Dana walked over to look at the makeup jars. "I don't suppose our suspect was the helpful type who left us a few good prints to work with," she said, stifling a sneeze. At least she wasn't sneezing her head off....that meant that the cat wasn't anywhere near here, either, and hadn't been in some time. And that confused her as well. If this wasn't the *real* Mrs. O'Keefe, why the cat? Maybe she should just sniff everyone they met, and the one that made her sneeze was their suspect. Better than nothing, which is what they had now. Dana was just about to mention that to Moorehouse when they felt the ship rock with what appeared to be an explosion from several decks below. Momentarily forgetting the dilemma facing them about Mrs. O'Keefe's true identity, they raced down the stairs two at a time in the direction of the blast. Within the dark shadows of the engine room, amid flame and smoke, two entities finally came together to battle for dominance. They had reached the center, the place where the follower was finally as strong as the hunter. The hunter was savage in his fury....he did not want to leave this place and would fight to the death for his right to stay. But the follower was full of righteous anger and that anger gave it strength. The air around them crackled with electricity and had a liquid feel to it. They wrestled in their eternal battle, unseen by everyone save one strange little observer and his unconsolable friend. Mulder dropped his head in sorrow and turned to leave the beings behind. He'd done what he could to help....now he had to trust the follower to finish the job, just as he'd trusted Dana time and time again to do her job. Dana....Oh god. Passing by her body, he could not help but kneel to touch her one last time. He reached out his hand and stopped suddenly, his hand hanging in mid air as realization made it's way to his brain. He stared up at Dr. Jay, smiling....laughing.... "It's not Dana," he shouted with joy, tears streaming down his face. "How do you know that?" Dr. Jay responded. Mulder looked up at him again and smiled....no grinned wildly, relief flooding through him. "No graffiti!!!" he giggled giddily in between gasps. He was just starting to explain to a clearly puzzled Dr. Jay when the entities collided a final time, and a second explosion ripped through the engine room. A tremendous force lifted Mulder into the air and slammed him unmercifully into the bulkhead, his arms raised before his face against the blast. He felt hot metal tear into his body but he wasn't exactly sure where, and a dark, rich, stream of blood flowed fiercely down his face and into his already stinging eyes. He couldn't see. Superheated air burned into his nose and throat and his lungs felt as though they were burning a hole through his chest. He vaguely felt himself being lifted and carried through the inferno and out towards the light....a bright light. Dana and Moorehouse arrived at the scene minutes later. The engine room was fully engulfed in flames, thick black smoke pouring from doorway. Somehow the crew had managed to rescue a few passengers, and they lay about on stretchers lining the corridor. Most had obvious burns, and one woman was bleeding freely from a head wound. This looks like a war zone, Dana thought. She looked for Dr. Johnson to see if she could help him, but she couldn't find the doctor. All of the sudden she had a very bad feeling about this. Dana headed toward the open dooway, but Moorehouse grabbed her arm and stopped her. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded. "Mulder's in there...I know it," she replied, straining to get away from his grasp. "I've got to find him...." "What.....are you nuts? Nothing could survive in there." Dana struggled briefly, then stopped, her shoulders sagging as she acknowledged that he was right. Even where she was standing the heat was almost unbearable....if Mulder was caught in there.... "Oh, god...." Dana breathed, her eyes going wide with shock and surprise. Moorehouse followed her gaze into the inferno, then blinked rapidly trying to clear his vision. Surely he wasn't seeing what he thought he was seeing. Dr. Jay was walking toward them through the flames carrying Mulder's limp body in his arms. The fire backed away from them, and they emerged untouched through that vision of hell and out into the corridor. The odd little man seemed to support Mulder's larger mass effortlessly. He walked down the corridor and laid Mulder down gently on an empty stretcher, like a father lovingly putting his child to bed. Dana ran over to Mulder, horror and despair etched on her face as the extent of his injuries became clear. His burns, though not widespread or immediately life threatening, were mainly second degree....the most painful. The skin on his arms and hands had peeled away, revealing the raw and bloody skin beneath that resembled melted wax. Although the burns were serious, what concerned Dana more was the amount of blood he was losing due to what looked like shrapnel wounds, and most particularly the damage done to his respiratory system from the superheated air that he had inhaled. She could hear his strangled attempts to breathe as his throat and nasal passages began to swell, cutting off his oxygen supply. Chances were that he would suffocate or bleed to death before she could do anything to help him. Tears streamed down her face as Dr. Jay had Mulder transported to the infirmary and placed on the exam table. Unable to touch his hands, she settled for stroking his hair. Normally silky and soft beaneath her fingertips, it was stiff and charred brittle....little pieces broke off at her touch. For once in her life, Dana wished she wasn't a doctor....then she wouldn't know that Mulder was dying....she could still have hope. Mulder needed immediate treatment in an intensive care ward, and he wasn't about to get it on this ship. And he wouldn't last until help arrived from the mainland. Looking toward her tear-stained face, Dr. Jay came to a decision. It was going to cause him problems, but he didn't care. These two didn't deserve this. Dr. Jay took Dana by the elbow. "Come, my dear," he said, gently ushering her out of the room. Before she could protest, he shut the door forcefully behind her, locking her out. "Noooo!!!" she howled as she pounded her fists on the door. How could he do this? How could Dr. Jay keep her from him....Fox needed her help, needed her to be there with him. Why would he keep them apart? "Let me in...please, please....let me in," she begged, but the door remained firmly closed. Dr Jay studied the battered figure before him. "You do not deserve this," he repeated. "Our mission here was successful...we won, my friend, and part of that success was because of you," he whispered sadly. "I can not condone neutrality in this case...so I will do what I must. If I am punished for my disobedience, so be it. Making you pay for our mistakes is a sham of justice and I will not be a part of it," he vowed angrily. Holding his hands over Mulder's prone body, Dr. Jay closed his eyes. A bright glow grew in the room, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. It surrounded the two men until their shapes were indistinguishable from the light. In a flash the light disappeared, and all that remained was a blood covered table and an empty room. Enlisting the help of several passengers, Dana finally broke into the infirmary. However, she did not find what she expected..... There was nothing here...the room was empty. Just like the test scenario, Dana thought, the men had vanished from a locked room with no obvious means of escape. Moorehouse insisted on conducting a ship-wide search for Mulder.....after all, in reality no one could vanish from a locked room, not to mention a cruise ship out in the middle of the ocean. But the search was to no avail.......Dana wasn't surprised...she hadn't really thought that anyone would find him. You couldn't hide a critically wounded man on a ship...and have him survive. Along with a couple of doctors from the passenger list, she helped the ship's personnel care for the injured.....Familiar tasks kept her mind occupied. But when the last victim was attended to, there was nothing else to do. Dana felt like a lost soul, aimlessly wandering the corridors. After spearheading the search for Mulder, Moorehouse had made himself scarce. She had a feeling he couldn't deal with failure, or maybe he just wanted to give her some space to let her deal with her grief in her own way. In any event, Dana evetually found herself on the deck where she'd watched the sunrise together with Mulder. She leaned heavily on the rail and cried bitterly, giving in to her grief. "Shush," a familiar voice admonished from behind her. "You cannot go to him in this condition, my dear. He is going to need all the cheering up that you can give him...especially when those burns start to itch." Dana whirled suddenly and looked Dr. Jay dead in the eye...after all they were nearly the same height. "I took the liberty of calling for an air lift, the little man continued. It seems that ship to shore is now....functional, shall we say." "Where have you been?" she asked in a mixture of anger and relief. "Why did you take him? How did you take him?" "Dear lady, suffice it to say that one should sometimes *not* ask too many questions...just accept 'what is' and be thankful. Dr. Jay s expression turned serious, and Dana felt her heart leap into her throat as he continued. But be warned...he is not completely out of danger, my dear. There are some things that even *I* can't fix. He has an insatiable will to live, however, and with the proper medical facilities, I think he'll make it. He s back in the infirmary. Go to him...he needs you." The little man turned and walked around a corner. Dana ran to the spot, but he had vanished once again. Remember, Dana, she told herself, don't ask too many questions... just accept what is and be thankful....and she was. She turned and ran toward the infirmary. The door was now open and upon entering, she spotted Mulder's long, lean silhouette lying peacefully prone on the examination table. All the equipment had been expertly utilized and was performing all the necessary functions....she could not have done it any better herself. The heart monitor showed a steady sinus rhythm, the ventilator hissed with regularity, and the IV dripped monotonously through the clear surgical tubing. Dana rechecked the equipment a second time, took his vital signs, and concluded that though he was still critical, his condition was at least stable...a feat that she had thought would be an impossibility when she'd first examined him at the scene. It was during this second examination that she noticed the strange, green, gel-like substance that seemed to ooze from his nose and mouth. It also covered the damp bandages on his arms and hands. Reaching out, she touched it with her fingertips and felt an odd, tingling sensation. It almost felt like some kind of .....living material. She raised her fingers to her nose, sniffing the green goop, but it seemed to disappear into thin air as soon as she brought it close to her nose. Having dealt in the past with numerous 'other' types of living organisms, many of which she would just as soon forget, she was at first alarmed by the presence of this unknown substance. In the end, however, she came to the conclusion that Dr. Jay would not use anything on Mulder that would cause any harm. She attempted several times to remove a sample for study, but without success. Each time she tried to gather some for a slide, it dissolved without a trace within seconds. Dana finally decided that whatever it was, it must accelerate the healing process....sort of a topical super-antibiotic tissue regenerator, if such a thing was possible. In that event, it was highly probable that the goop was geared to respond only to the host in which it was introduced. At least it didn t seem to have an adverse affect on her. "How's the kid doin'?" Jake asked gruffly as he stood hesitantly in the doorway. I d heard somebody finally found him. "He's hanging in there," she replied, worriedly pacing the floor. "It seems he's been here all along." "Yeah, sure..." Moorehouse scoffed. "And if I believe that one, you've got a great bargain on Manhattan you d like to run past me, right?" Dana smiled...funny how they'd come to this unspoken understanding not to talk about Mulder's strange rescue from the engine room, not to mention the mysterious Dr. Jay. She listened as Moorehouse filled her in. He'd searched Kopec's room, then Oneida's, and last but not least Mrs. O'Keefe's... or whoever the hell she/he was. Not surprisingly, he d found absolutely nothing to connect Senator Weston with the murders of his wife and her lover. If they were dealing with a government assassin, and Moorehouse had every reason to believe that they were, there would be no evidence. These guys were ruthless...not to mention thorough. However, he'd found all sorts of incriminating evidence against Kopec still in his cabin...some coincidence, huh? Yeah, right.... "I think you should go with him when the choppers get here," Moorehouse said, gesturing at Mulder. "We've gone as far as we're gonna get with this investigation. I've notified the authorities to meet the ship at the port when we dock. Whoever bumped off Kopec is long gone...or died in the engine room explosion... and every lead is a dead end. We both know that Senator Weston was behind at least two of the murders, but all the evidence has conveniently 'disappeared'. Just try to prove that kind of charge against the good senator with what we have and we'll have the whole damn 'hill' down on our necks." Moorehouse paced back and forth in the small room. It was clear that he was frustrated by not being able to nab the real culprit. But he'd been around long enough to know that eventually you had to stop banging your head against a brick wall cause you're the only one who's getting hurt. "I've got enough evidence to prove Kopec's involvement," he continued. "It's more than enough to get the reward. And as your partner so eloquently informed me...no one will believe the identity of the other murderer. If I hadn t seen some of this stuff with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it either. I m still not sure that I do." "I know the feeling," Dana said sympathethically. "I've always been the skeptic. Mulder's had to drag me along all the way on that score, kicking and screaming. I may believe on occasion, Jake...I'm just a lot less likely to than Mulder." "You know, Mrs. Mulder," Jake said, emphasizing her name ever so slightly...kind of like an inside joke. "Since you were the one who made the connection and forced Kopec's hand, part of this reward belongs to you and your partner." "We can't take a reward for performing our duties while on an official case," Dana replied. "But how about you take 'our share' and set up some kind of charity fund. Pick one that needs the money the most," she said almost as an afterthought. ******* continued in part 9b M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous ELVIS PRESLEY, DEAD AT 42 and Myth Patrol "Oh, no!" Construction Site -- Mulder, "Home" "Meanwhile, I've quit the FBI, and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller." -- Scully, "Home" xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - ********************************************************************** From xangst@frii.com Thu Oct 17 07:07:51 1996 Devil's Advocate part 9 continued.... Moorehouse nodded with admiration, agreeing with her suggestion. "I'll take care of the loose ends here. You know...if you're ever in need of a new partner....look me up." He stared at Dana, whose gaze had never left Mulder during the whole time he'd spoken to her. "I know, when hell freezes over..never hurts to ask," he muttered under his breath. He walked over to the table, patted Fox lightly on the head and grinned. "Better get used to her bossin' ya around...looks like you're stuck with her." The trauma hawks came within the hour bringing medical personnel and airlifting many of the more seriously injured passengers to the waiting trauma teams at Jackson Memorial. Mulder had been one of the first to be taken and Dana, being a doctor, was allowed to accompany him. As promised, Jake stayed behind to handle the details of the 'provable' murders. For three long days Mulder fought an uphill battle for his life. Already weakened by his previous illness and injury, he balanced precariously on a tight rope between life and death. This rope had to be tread carefully, for there was 'no' net to catch him if he fell. On several occasions he'd nearly lost his balance and tumbled into the chasm. Dana recalled everything with vivid clarity....the crash-carts, tubes, needles, and machines. She was heartbreakingly reminded of just how many ways modern medical science could violate a human body, and she found herself on an emotional roller coaster ride. She soared with joy when Fox's condition stabilized, and then sank with despair hours later when his vitals plummeted, resulting in a cardiac arrest. They'd brought him back....twice... and he'd stabilized yet again. She was exhausted....physically, mentally, and emotionally. The strain was evident in her posture and displayed itself clearly in the deepened lines and shadows beneath her bloodshot eyes. Her voice echoed with anxiety and stress when she spoke to Margaret on the phone that second nerve-wracking night......needing her mother's strength, yet reluctant to ask for her support. Dana had always been a strong person, dependent on no one, and she prided herself on that strength--- Then she'd met 'him' and as with everything else, he'd thrown a monkey wrench into the cogwheels of her life. Mulder had always respected her, she realized...right from the start he d valued her opinions and cared enough to argue with her when he thought her opinions were wrong. He accepted her strength and when necessary, he relied on it without reservation. Fox was one of the few 'men' she'd ever met who didn't seem threatened by her 'drive' or her intelligence, and in fact, almost seemed to 'enjoy' providing her with challenges for both. He was possibly the 'smartest' person she'd ever known--and at times one of the most troubled. She couldn't exactly pinpoint when it happened, but over the last two years, she'd grown to love this man...obsessions and all. Somehow in her heart and mind, she just couldn't picture her life without him in it. Pacing a scuffed path in the shiny white tiles of the hospital floor, she walked to the window and back again, wishing with all her heart that she could impart to him the same strength, openness, and love that he'd given to her in her own struggle for life. Finally, physically exhausted, she simply flopped herself back down into the small, comfortless chair next to Mulder s bed. She absently reached out and lightly traced the fine contours and angles of Mulder's face with her fingertips. Her touch lingered tenderly over his soft, sensual lips, now rudely separated by the cold unyielding plastic of a ventilator tube. Memories flooded her mind......"There's nobody down here but the FBI's most Unwanted".....mischievous eyes..."Do you think I'm 'Spooky'?"........teasing smirks..."I think it's plausible someone might think you're 'hot'.".....softly sincere..."If there's an ice tea in that bag... could be 'love'"......eyes crinkling in mirth..."that only happens when I eat Dodger Dogs."....fleeting smile, knowing looks.....words of comfort....passionate embraces.... The visions wouldn't stop and threatened to overwhelm her, but she struggled to remain in control. Dana bent low over his ear and whispered a phrase that seemed vaguely familiar to her. "I don't know if my being here will bring you back....but 'I'm here'." Resting her head on the bed beside him, Dana drifted into a fitful sleep, only to be awakened several hours later by the choking sounds of Mulder trying to expel the tube from his throat. He'd improved around midnight and his gagging reflex kicked in, prompting the doctors to remove the ventilator and place the thin oxygen tubing beneath his nose instead. Dana sighed in relief....this was a definite improvement. She allowed herself to hope. Margaret Scully paced the the floor in ICU angrily. She glanced frequently at her daughter who had seated herself in a chair by Mulder's bed. "You informed his parents?" she asked yet again. Scully nodded in affirmation one more time. "I told you, mother...they can't make it," she repeated, thoroughly understanding her mother's anger. She had felt some of the ire that her mother was openly venting. "His mother is in New York with some business appointment--she left a number where she could be reached if there was any change, and his father is in Paris. His cousin Alex and his wife Catie will be here as soon as they can find, or shall I say, 'bribe' someone to watch the kids." Dana snickered out loud, "Although I wouldn t hold my breath if I were you... zoo keepers are in short supply these days." Her mother'd had no trouble recognizing the unspoken need in her daughter's voice when they had spoken on the phone the night before. She'd flown in that morning and immediately began playing mother hen to both of them. Scully had to admit she was just a little surprised at her mom's maternal instincts toward Mulder at first. Margaret was genuinely ticked off at his family for their indifference to him and pestered the nurses often if she thought that he wasn't getting enough attention...which was totally absurd, since the nurses did nothing *but* pay attention to him. Her mom and Mulder had *obviously* become very close during her absence and she had 'adopted' him as her own. Dana smiled. Boy, would he be in for it now, she thought. Three Scully women, picking on him...pestering him....caring about him.....he was about to discover what a *real* family was like---God help him. "You mean to tell me that with her only child at death's door, this woman prefers to keep a *business* appointment????" Margaret fumed, then huffed for effect. "How in the name of heaven could someone as caring and empathetic as Fox *ever* come from people who are so...." she paused momentarily searching for the correct word. ".....callous? Do you still have that number?" Scully dug out her notebook. "Yeah, it's right here." She held the notebook up for emphasis and jumped in surprise when her mother quickly reached over and snatched it from her hand. "Mother, what are you doing?" Dana inquired anxiously. "Mother....." "As one mother to another...I'm going to give this woman a piece of my mind," she replied obstinately, reaching for the telephone. She then shot her daughter a look that dared her to try and interfere. Dana remained where she was. She knew her mother's moods and this was not one that would appreciate rationality. She'd once been told that all Scully women were stubborn, opinionated, and very protective....personally, she couldn't *imagine* why anyone would think such a thing...Yeah, right. She could almost hear the 'lock and load' before the blast and was more than grateful that she, Dana Scully, was not going to be on the receiving end of *this* phone conversation. "Hello? Mrs. Mulder? This is Mrs. Scully. My daughter is your son's partner. Her mother was being extremely polite... that was a very bad sign. "Yes, there's been a slight improvement. Frankly, I was surprised not to find you here...I ve been looking forward to meeting you. Her mother paused briefly, no doubt listening to Mrs. Mulder s excuse for her absence. "Yes, I *heard* about your *business* in New York. That is what I want to talk to you about. What I want to know is how a *business* appointment can take precedence over your child's welfare." Her mother paused to listen again...Dana could just imagine the other end of this conversation, probably something about minding her own business. Dana cringed...that phrase never failed to push her mom s buttons, especially when Margaret Scully knew she was right. "Oh, you don't...do you? Well, let me tell you something...I have never met anyone as intelligent, gentle, and kind as your son...and one of these days you may find that he's gone...and that you never even took the time to know who he was. And that, Mrs. Mulder, would be a *real* shame. If you know what's good for you, you'll get your butt down here and be a mother ... What kind of person am I?!?" Margaret repeated indignantly. "I was about to ask you the same question....your son needs you." Mrs. Scully's face took on an expression of disbelief. "Your needs?!!?? What??? Pardon me, but perhaps the poor boy was adopted after all, because I can't for the life of me picture him as *your* son. You've shut him out because seeing him reminds you of what you've lost....That's not fair to him.....or to you. Yes, well same to you. Goodbye." She slammed the receiver down as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Bitch," she mumbled softly. Margaret Scully looked at her daughter and grinned guiltily. "If that doesn't bring her...nothing will, and in that case, he's better off without her. Whew!!!" she uttered in an exaggerated sigh. "I feel much better." Mulder stirred slowly on the bed and began to cough up some of the odd green liquid. Scully wiped it from his mouth only to watch it disintegrate from the cloth in her hand. The strange smelling stuff had been driving the doctors batty trying to figure out what it was. They had an idea of what it did, although they couldn't even begin to imagine *how* it did it or where it came from. New skin had already begun to form on his hands and arms and his respiratory system had also begun to heal in the same manner. What ever this green goo was, it worked and she didn't give a rat's ass if they could figure it out or not. She said a silent 'thanks' to Mulder's guardian angel, Dr. Jay....whereever he was... and hoped that he wasn't in too much trouble. Scully watched as Fox slowly opened his eyes. She could tell that even though his eyes were open, they were glazed and slightly dilated....he wasn't all there yet, but it was a start. His other injuries still worried her. He d lost a lot of blood and had begun to experience system failure from hypovolemic shock when they d first arrived at the hospital. That fact along with the basal skull fracture he d received fed her overly cautious paranoia concerning his condition. He moaned quietly and whispered, "Mom?" Dana brushed the hair from his eyes as her mother bent over him. "Yes, it's mom," Margaret said in a soothing tone. Mulder looked at her and in his confused, semi- conscious state, whimpered softly, "please don't hate me, mom. I didn t mean to... I love you." Margaret held back her tears. "Oh, dear...I could *never* hate you....I love you too. Now go back to sleep..." She kissed him lightly on the forehead. A contented smile formed upon his lips as he drifted off to a warm, safe place. "Dana, dear," her mom whispered softly as she turned to leave, "I'll be back later to relieve you for a little while so you can get some rest, and don't try and argue with me about it....I'm your mother. I think you're as bad as he is," she said, glancing at Mulder. "I don't think anything less than dynamite could have moved him from *your* side at the hospital," she smiled in remembrance. "He's a very, very, stubborn young man...." she said out loud as she walked through the door. "Who obviously loves you very much," she added quietly under her breath. Margaret was halfway down the hall when she realized she'd left her purse in the chair in which she'd been sitting. She headed back to the room, intending to duck in quickly and retrieve it. Pausing at the door, she peaked through the window just in time to see her daughter bend carefully over Fox, tenderly stroke a stubborn lock of hair from over one eye, and lightly kiss his full, soft lips... green goo and all. Mrs. Scully grinned in spite of herself and made a mental note to stop harassing her daughter about 'dating'. She couldn't have come up with anyone that even came close to Fox. No wonder Dana hadn't shown any interest. She went back down the hall...she had her ATM card in her pocket, after all. She'd just take a cab. Scully remained in ICU after her mother had left for the motel. She watched Fox sleep... a deep, healing sleep. When the doctor came by on his last rounds for the evening, he confirmed what Dana already suspected...that Mulder s condition had improved enough for them to confirm that he would indeed survive. She'd been nearly frantic with concern for the past two days...and rightly so. That man was gonna give her gray hair and ulcers.....well, that is unless she gave them to him first. Glancing up to check him every now and then, she took out her lap top compuder and began to make her report. It was late but she didn't care...she just wanted to finish the one last detail and put this case behind them. Surprisingly, Skinner hadn't pressed her for it. In fact, he d called the hospital a couple of times to check on Mulder s condition, and he d told her to take as much time as she needed. Maybe Fox was right again and Skinner wasn't such a bad guy after all. She sat and stared at her keyboard for what seemed like hours. Should she write what she 'knew' was the truth...or only what she knew that she could 'prove'? The only proof they had implicated Karl Kopec and she was certain that *he* was murdered by someone hired by the *good* senator. This someone, she believed, was whoever had been disguised as Mrs. O'Keefe. Since there were no fingerprints and nobody had seen this person out of disquise, he or she would be next to impossible to find, let alone connect to Senator Weston. Either way, the *real* human guilty party would escape prosecution due to a convenient 'lack of evidence'. Dana had no doubts that Senator Weston was behind the murders of Oneida and Jason and had used the 'unexplainable' murders to his advantage. But without the concrete evidence needed to indict or convict him, they were powerless to connect him with the crimes.....so once again....they were left with the injustice of knowledge without proof. Dana wanted to scream. "Don't do that," a quiet, familiar voice whispered from the shadows. "Hospitals notoriously frown upon loud noises...especially late at night." "Are you a mind reader, too?" she asked in startled surprise as Dr. Jay stepped forward into the light. "How did you get in here? Don't tell me...let me guess. Scotty beamed you down and you're exiled on this quaint little planet for screwing with the prime directive." Dr. Jay favored her with a quisical look...she d inadvertantly come pretty close to the truth, with just a few of the details wrong. "I'm sorry...." she apologized, "I'm just a little frayed. I should be thanking you---you saved Fox's life," she murmured, pointing to the hospital bed surrounded by the whirring and beeping machines that kept diligent surveillance on the pale being who was safely tucked in between the crisp white sheets. "Oh, I'm not offended, dear lady," he replied gallantly. "Actually I thought your remarks were...quite humorous...and not too far from ...'truthful'. I did get into a 'spot' of trouble for my interference with your partner's dilemma. However, the powers that be recognized the necessity of my actions and cleared me completely. You see.....Fox's continued existence is, shall we say, 'required'. He is slated to have a full, long, and very productive life ......if all is to turn out as it should." He stared at Dana once more with a cryptic grin. "You'll have a lot to do with that, so please be careful and take care of yourself, too." Dr. Jay walked over to the bed and rested his hand gently on Mulder's forehead. "Do try not to be so impulsive, my friend. My superiors tend to frown upon my absconding with their medical equipment. In fact, it makes them absolutely livid." Mulder twitched under Dr. Jay's touch and moaned softly in reply. ******** continued in part 9c M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous ELVIS PRESLEY, DEAD AT 42 and Myth Patrol "Oh, no!" Construction Site -- Mulder, "Home" "Meanwhile, I've quit the FBI, and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller." -- Scully, "Home" xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - ********************************************************************** From xangst@frii.com Thu Oct 17 07:08:28 1996 Devil's Advocate part 9 continued... "There, there....no need to get so touchy" he spoke to the now aggitated young man beneath his hand....."Do not think that your pain was pointless. You accomplished much more than you can ever be allowed to realize. The human demon will eventually reap what he has sown...*You* have assisted in slaying a much larger dragon.....I am embarrassingly proud of you." Dr. Jay smiled thoughtfully and Dana watched breathlessly as he stroked Mulder's hair tenderly, dropping his fingertips to linger momentarily on Fox's cheek. "I have to leave now....please endeavor to behave yourself." The strange little man turned around to face Dana, and for the first time she noticed that he was holding a cat...in fact, it was Mrs. O Keefe s orange cat. Now why had t she seen that before? And why wasn t she sneezing her head off? Where did *that* come from? Dana asked, pointing at the cat. She could have sworn he didn't have the cat when she first saw him. This delightful creature? Dr. Jay asked mischeviously. He scratched Tiger behind the ears, and the cat closed its eyes contentedly, purring up a storm. It never ceases to amaze me what so-called intelligent beings will do to each other, he said, shaking his head sadly. I think this one has suffered enough, don t you? Besides, he has a present for you. Dr. Jay took the collar off the cat and held it out to Dana. Cats...intelligent beings?!? Surely he must be joking. Cats were...well, cats. She shook her head at him. "I can t take that ...I m allergic." Dr. Jay quirked an eyebrow at her. Are you now, my dear. He chuckled, then dropped the collar on the table by Mulder s bed. Amazing stuff, that green goo...but now I really must go. Dana recovered her composure and quickly asked, "will we see you again?" "Oh....I'll be around. You can count on it...the two of you could give an old man 'green'...I mean 'gray' hair. By the way...." He paused and produced a small flask of the strange tea he'd given Mulder the last time they'd met. "This tea is very good for just about everything...but especially for an upset stomach...it could come in handy." "Thanks," Dana replied, taking the flask of tea from him, all the while eyeing the cat warily. Was there something going on behind those golden eyes? Naw... she was imagining things...a cat was a cat. But I don t think we ll be taking another cruise any time soon, she told Dr. Jay. Dr. Jay grinned broadly. "No, I suppose not." Dana took the flask that she had taken from his hand and set it on the small end table beside her chair. When she looked back up.....Dr. Jay and the cat had vanished once again into the shadows.... Strange. . . Dana, she thought to herself, don't even ask. She shook her head slowly, retraced her steps back to Mulder's bed and seated herself carefully on its edge. He looked much better, she noted with satisfaction. A small tinge of pink had returned to his cheeks and the odd green substance had vanished without a trace, leaving no sign that it had 'ever' existed in the first place. Thinking of Dr. Jay, she looked up, briefly expecting him to pop up out of nowhere. Somewhat relieved to find themselves still alone, she spoke to Mulder out loud, "I must say, Fox Mulder.....you *do* attract some of the *strangest 'friends'." Upon lowering her gaze, she was surprised to find that Fox had awakened and was contemplating her face from beneath heavy-lidded hazel eyes. Dana smiled in joyous relief as Mulder moved his lips and tried to speak. His first attempt resulted in nothing more than a strained whisper and even though the effort appeared to exhaust him, he persisted. Tears welled hauntingly in his eyes, then overflowed and traveled silently down his cheeks as the shock of his ordeal caught up with him. Mulder met her gaze. His countenance suggested a plea for comfort as a low strained voice, hoarsely laced with pain and emotion echoed what was clearly displayed on his face. "Hold me?" he asked in a strangled whisper. "For as long as you want me to," she replied quietly. Dana carefully lowered herself to lie beside him on the bed. Very, very gently, she adjusted wires and shifted tubing as she placed her arm lightly across his body in a tender caress....a position in which she remained until her mother showed up to relieve her the next morning. Scully stopped typing in the middle of her report, removed her glasses and set them on her desk. She rubbed her eyes gingerly, then took another sip of hot tea before resuming her task. This report really needed to be finished---she knew that. She'd started on it several days ago while she was watching over Mulder in ICU, but found that at the time she just didn't seem to be able to concentrate on writing it. But now with Mulder steadily improving day by day it was time to get on with business. Dana still wasn't exactly 'certain' of what it was that she *should* write...so she had basically stuck with the facts as she knew them. Putting her teacup down, she continued typing: 'As previously stated, evidence found in Karl Kopec's cabin suggests that he, indeed, committed the murders of Oneida Darkhorse and Jason Hubbard. Mr. Kopec's fingerprints were found on both the screwdriver used to loosen the screws on Mr. Hubbard's barbell stand and on the package of patches used to drug Mrs. Darkhorse and Agent Mulder. Chemical analysis of the patches confirmed a potentially 'fatal' dosage of the common motion sickness drug known as Scopolomine. The only thing lacking in the proof of Mr. Kopec's guilt, however, is 'motive'. Both Agent Mulder and I feel that Mr. Kopec did *not* act on his own initiative. Our investigation has revealed no prior contact between Mr. Kopec and the victims, outside of Mr. Kopec s somewhat inflammatory article concerning Mrs. Darkhorse. However, Mr. Kopec denied ever having met the woman prior to writing the article, and we have been unable to prove otherwise. Our opinion is further based on the fact that Mr. Kopec, himself, was also murdered by an unknown assailant who disguised himself or herself as Mrs. Charlotte O'Keefe. *NOTE*: The authentic Mrs. O'Keefe had been in residence at her estate in Maine during all three cruises, a fact attested to by numerous eyewitnesses. Therefore, she could not have been on board the ship. 'It is our belief that Mr. Kopec was recruited by an outside source to eliminate Mrs. Darkhorse and her lover. Although Agent Mulder and I suspect who that source might be, without the proof needed for conviction, arrest and prosecution of our suspect would be a useless endeavor. We will, however, continue to monitor this 'suspect' covertly in an attempt to obtain the evidence and information necessary to link this individual with the crimes.' Dana paused in her report to finger the collar Dr. Jay had taken off the cat. Dana had given the collar to the forensics lab to run tests on it. The lab report was sitting on her desk...Dana just hadn t decided what to do about it yet. As it turned out, the collar itself was unremarkable...easily purchased at any pet store in the country for about six dollars. However, one of the jewels imbedded in the collar had turned out to be a computer microchip. Encoded on that chip were columns of numbers and dates. This was important...Dana knew it. Maybe Mrs. O Keefe's imposter had encoded that chip as an insurance policy of sorts to protect him or her from whoever had ordered Kopec s murder. Too bad it hadn t turned out that way. But maybe someday they d be able to trace the numbers and dates back to Senator Weston, although for the life of her, Dana couldn t figure out how she would ever be able to prove the chain of custody on this particular piece of evidence. For now, she decided to leave it out of her report and she continued typing: 'Mr. Kopec's murderer still remains unidentified. However, since all passengers and crew have been accounted for, it is this Agent's opinion that the assassin perished in the same engine room explosion that critically injured Agent Mulder. It is Agent Mulder's contention that the 'outside source' knowingly used the existing deaths on board the cruise ship vessel to confuse and hinder any ensuing investigation. To paraphrase a saying that he seems quite fond of quoting..'A lie is most convincing when place between two truths.' As for the other 'murders' aboard this and the previous cruises of the past several weeks, no evidence of 'foul play' could be proven. I tend to lean toward the assumption that this particular section of ocean in some manner, perhaps due to environmental changes, detrimentally affected certain susceptible individuals, inducing a form of psychosis, causing erratic behavior and possible hallucinations. This, in turn, prompted 'unusual' accidents that would not have normally occurred. It should be noted that once the cruise line initiated a course change correction which avoided this particular area of ocean, no further incidents occurred. Studies done in several universities would tend to back up the aforementioned theory. For example, lack of ultraviolet light may cause depression, high frequency sound has been known to produce irritability in some persons, etc. I submit that although this is a 'possible' explanation for this phenomenon, it is not necessarily the *only* one, and could not be proven without extensive research which was not possible during this investigation. Therefore, without concrete proof, I am forced to 'officially' classify X-file number 4305-6 as unsolved.' She knew Mulder wouldn't 'officially' agree with this classification....and she had to admit that she didn't either, but she also knew that he would grudgingly accept her judgment in the matter. Dana took one last sip of tea, turned out the light and headed for bed. Scully spent the better part of the next day at the hospital, and she was exceedingly pleased that Mulder continued to improve. When she'd arrived that morning, they'd even propped him up in bed. The IV dangled from his arm and she still thought he looked too pale. Although the monitors beeped and hummed reassuringly, she fought the urge to check his vitals just one more time. The only thing holding her back was the fact that he was talking incessantly. She couldn't get him to shut up, not that she 'really' wanted him to. It was a pleasure to hear his voice again, and the fact that he was running his mouth proved to her that he was feeling pretty good, considering the circumstances.. Pulling the chair up closer to Fox, she sat down with a wide grin on her face. If it hadn't been for the tragic circumstances that had 'landed' him here, she would have considered the scene before her as 'comical'. All right....in spite of everything, it *was* comical. The skin on Mulder's arms and hands had begun to peel profusely, and in an effort to prevent him from scratching and infecting himself, the nurses had brought in a pair of long, white evening gloves with little pink embroidered roses running down the sides for him to wear. They'd customized them by cutting out a space for the IV and taped the tops securely around his upper arms so he couldn't 'accidentally' pull them off. She d have to remember that technique the next time he was sporting a cast...she didn't even want to think about all the trouble he d caused with the last one. Mulder recognized an impish grin when he saw one and merely raised one questioning eyebrow, just daring her to comment. A nurse strolled in and unceremoniously dropped his chart at the foot of the bed. "What?" he repeated out loud, as Dana continued to snicker. "Oh, I don't know....." she offered with a wry smile as she glanced up at the nurse. "I was just wondering....how did you get him to put 'those' on without putting up a fight?" she inquired, pointing at the gloves. "Oh, he *did* put up a fight," the nurse said sweetly, giving Mulder a wink. ".......he lost." "You guys *cheat*," he grumbled. "Cheat?" Scully asked in confusion. "We knocked him out," the nurse chuckled with satisfaction. "*Never* give the *nurses* a hard time," she admonished as she left the room. "Mengele's granddaughter," he mumbled accusingly under his breath as she walked through the door. Dana laughed out loud. That infamous Mulder sense of humor was back...that was a *very* good sign. She studied him for several seconds. There'd been something she'd wanted to ask him....something she'd wanted to know but she'd wanted to wait until his mind had cleared and he was feeling better---perhaps now..... "Mulder," she ventured cautiously, "do you remember *anything* from the time of the explosion until you woke up here?" Fox knitted his brows in concentration. "Not much," he admitted, "....and yes, it does bother me," he added before she could ask. A haunted look clouded his features and the memories that he 'could' recall replayed themselves in his mind. "I remember mostly *pain*," he continued, "waves and waves of pain....and 'joy'." "Joy?!!?" she sputtered disbelievingly. He lowered his eyes and his voice. "*It* lied to me....it implied that you were in the engine room....that you were dead.... When I discovered that the 'body' I found wasn't you......I felt....joy." He quickly continued his narrative before she could respond. "Things get pretty vague after that and I'm not sure what was real and what was imagined. I have a brief and fuzzy recollection of hearing Dr. Jay's voice, being naked, seeing a green haze, and the sensation of being submerged in. . . warm jello? I seem to remember that at first I was afraid I would drown... I panicked and tried to hold my breath. Then Dr. Jay said that it was ok to breathe....and it was. It was the weirdest dream I've ever had, Dana. It was like breathing under water. Everything tingled and the pain stopped for a little while. I don't remember anything else after that until I woke up here." Scully thought about what he'd said, and then asked the question that she'd been leading up to. "Mulder....don't you feel 'cheated' at not being able to remember what happened to you?" He knew she was referring to her own feelings at being unable to remember what had happened to her as well as his own. His eyes suddenly crinkled with amusement as he considered his answer. "No, I don t, he said. What I feel most is gratitude that we're both *alive* to contemplate feeling 'cheated'. Anyway, speaking as a person who's been cursed with remembering everything that I've ever seen in my whole goddamn life.....being able to forget something is a freaking.....luxury. His face took on a pained expression, and Dana was just about to call for the doctor when he stopped her. "No, it s not that, he said. I just remembered that your mom was here earlier. She *insisted* that my feet looked 'cold' and put socks on them." He wiggled his toes for emphasis. "Could you please take 'em off and tell her that I'm a big boy and I don't *want* socks on.....please*?" he asked with a pleading look in his eyes. Dana chuckled loudly. "Is she coming back today?" "Yeah, this afternoon," he grunted. "In that case it would be in your best interest to smile graciously, leave the socks where they are, and don't contradict her.....arguing with my mother is a no win situation." "Sort of like arguing with you," he intoned softly. "What?" she asked suspiciously. "I said, 'she's a lot like you'," he corrected smoothly. Dana knew that wasn t what she d heard the first time, but she decided to let it slide. After all, he *was* still recovering. "Melissa said that she'd stop in tomorrow to see you on her way to Key West," she told him, settling into the chair beside his bed and reaching out for his hand. He nodded in acknowledgment and thought with trepidation about having three 'Scully' women in one place at one time..... He was surrounded by them...hell, he was up to his ass in them with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Shit, falling into a black hole suddenly looked pretty damn attractive. Nah... deep down inside, he knew he loved them all----one in particular... Fine. Can you believe it?? Stinker's "speechless"... or at least too tired to write something here, so you all are stuck with me. We didn't intend for this story to be sooooo long when we first started... or we may never have started at all. Somewhere during the second month of writing, we started calling it the "unofficial" X Files novel, which I changed just a tad in the sub-title as a way to acknowledge all the wonderful fellow Philes I've met on line... including Stinker, my writing partner. Wonder if Morgan and Wong got started this way??? See you all on line... Annie.... January 31, 1995 M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous ELVIS PRESLEY, DEAD AT 42 and Myth Patrol "Oh, no!" Construction Site -- Mulder, "Home" "Meanwhile, I've quit the FBI, and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller." -- Scully, "Home" xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - **********************************************************************