Subj: Poconos (5/7)
Date: 8/10/99 7:36:09 PM Central Daylight Time
From: jessica@amazon.com (Jessica Mabe)
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TITLE: Poconos (5/7)
AUTHOR: Jess
EMAIL ADDRESS: jessica@amazon.com
RATING: NC-17
Summary in Part One.
Email me, I'm so alone.
"Huh?" both women said in unison.
"Agent Scully here just asked me to dance, so I'll have to pass."
Sally looked a bit crestfallen, but then smiled. "All right. Next one,
then."
As she left, Scully smiled shyly. "Next dance or next funeral, do you
think?"
He simply held out his arm and swept her up. Swinging her around to the
dance floor felt wonderful. She laughed, caught in the motion of it, and
he grinned down at her. After the Great Mutato, dancing with her,
looking into her eyes, heart pounding… Remembering the reunion in
Kansas, he thought how close he and Scully had come to dancing several
times, but something about that night… it had been too dangerous, too
showy. It was no different now, he knew, but he was rebelling against
constraints, against danger. He wanted to pick Scully up, throw her over
his shoulder and demand to see her in that mysterious bikini..
"You dance, you sing… Mulder, tell me your Star Search days aren't
over."
Pulling her up short so that she fell gently against him, he whispered
in her ear.
"I'm claiming my reward, right now."
Her body stiffened for just a moment and then, like heavy liquid, she
seemed to flow into his seams.
"All right." Breathy and hushed against his chest. "Slow dance?"
"The slowest," he sighed into her hair.
For a moment they were still, barely rasping against one another. Then,
suddenly, he felt her decision. She began to move, small arms snaking
around his neck, soft hips and stomach rubbing just below his. He
stifled a gasp at the intimate way her legs slipped between his own.
"Scully," he murmured.
"Mmm," was all she replied. Turning her head, she rested her nose on his
collarbone, her lips warm through the thin fabric of his summer-weight
button-down. He knew then that he was melting like hot butter, pouring
over her, coating her.
"Scully…" Desperately searching for some way to reach her, some way to
appeal without destroying the tenuous thread. "… you smell good. Like
cotton candy."
It was the best he could do, but it felt like nothing. She sighed, a hot
little puff by his tie.
"Vanilla," she said softly. "It's vanilla perfume."
He nodded and pulled her closer, seeking more of her, sliding his hands
up under the stiff shell of her jacket to feel the sweat-soaked shirt on
her back. The damp coolness of it nearly undid him and he felt himself
growing hard against her.
For a long moment he debated. Should he pull away? What would she think?
She made the decision for him.
"God, Mulder," she whispered, her voice warm and drowsy, "It's so hot."
He knew she meant literally, but he was gone, pressing into her hip,
grinding against her, into her. Her response was unexpected. She pulled
his head close and whispered to him.
"Let's go get wet."
He froze. He knew what she meant, of course, but was she really
proposing this, now? His mind spun and he felt almost sick with desire.
"Scully," he croaked. "Where?"
She laughed, gutteral and sexy. "At the lake, of course."
He closed his eyes.
"Skinny dipping?"
"Not during the day," she whispered. "Maybe at night."
It was too much. He actually groaned and felt her giggle rise through
his chest straight to his brain like champagne.
"Scully." He could only say her name, he was so in awe of her.
She pulled back and looked slowly down his body to the strained material
of his pants and back up to his eyes.
"It looks," she said, licking her lips slightly, "like you could stand
to cool off."
If he could have pooled at her feet in a small puddle of spit, he would
have. Twice in one day.
"Mr. Mulder, Miss Scully?"
The voice came from just behind him, and was clearly local. Mulder felt
the sudden dowsing of his passions.
"Yes?" He turned slowly, hoping to intimidate the hell out of whomever
was standing there. A small white-haired man stood somber in the midst
of the dancing and revelry, holding a battered black hat in his hands.
"I was hoping I could talk to you both, privately."
Mulder glanced at Scully. Her annoyance was obvious. Then, like the
well-trained agent she was, he watched as she slicked down her desire
and became… interested.
"Certainly. Do you have somewhere we can go?" Her face was slightly
pink.
Scully brushed the wrinkled back of her suit jacket down and together
they followed the old man into a small vestibule off the main room. He
wondered if she could sense his desperation, reaching out to her like
the tentacles of some strange sea creature; an octopus of need and
insecurity.
The old man closed the door and smiled.
"You two sure don't seem like FBI. I grew up in the age of J. Edgar, and
back then, G-men didn't dance. At least, not in public."
Scully smiled and Mulder saw the tension in the set of her teeth. She
was embarrassed, and possibly ashamed. He felt as if his body had just
been kicked.
"What can we help you with?" Mulder asked, hoping to get away from the
subject.
"Well, you can't help me, much. But I'll bet I can help you two." The
old man patted Scully's shoulder and smiled at them both, as if he'd
just given them a gift.
"Shoot," Scully said, and Mulder could feel how much she wanted to
leave, to get away from him. Her footing had slipped, for just a moment,
and now she wanted to be back on familiar ground.
"I don't know how much you folks know about ancient Indian myths, but
I'm sure you've heard the legends about this area, about its power."
Mulder nodded. Familiar ground indeed.
"Zones of magnetic convergence?" Scully said, her voice like ice water.
"Exactly. Now, you may or may not believe in that sort of thing. I don't
know. I know I've lived here all my life and you'd better bet I do
believe. I've seen things happen that are just unexplainable any other
way. So here's the deal…" The little man leaned closer to them both and
lowered his voice. Mulder found himself leaning over Scully's shoulder,
breathing in that sugar scent of her. Somewhere underneath the sweetness
of the perfume, he smelled a tang, like lemon. Scully herself. "These
people, whether they are doing it consciously or not, are messing with
forces they don't understand. They are calling forth an evil in order to
have a little fun, and I for one, am tired of it. No one has a right to
do that."
"I don't understand," Scully said. "Are you saying that the people in
this church are causing people to die just so they can attend a
funeral?"
The little man shook his head. "No no, they aren't quite that shallow.
They're causing people to die so that they can help one another. They're
giving each other something to do. A house to paint for a widow, kids to
look after, people to fuss and fawn over. I don't think they know
they're doing it. But they are, and it should be stopped."
Mulder thought about this for a moment.
"How does it happen?" he asked. "Is it a build-up of energy, what?"
"How the hell should I know?" the little man snorted. "I'm no scientist.
But I've seen this sort of thing from time to time over the years."
"So how do we stop it?"
The old man shrugged. "Bring down the church, of course."
Mulder felt a bit a chill, as if a window had been opened somewhere.
Then he heard Scully's voice beside him.
"Are you all right?"
The old man shook his head, his face rapidly turning a strange shade of
purple. Mulder was able to reach out and catch him just in time to lower
him gently to the ground. He gasped and pulled at his collar. Dropping
beside him, Scully pushed Mulder aside and began to unbutton the old
man's shirt.
"Mulder, call 911," she said. "Tell them we've got someone in cardiac
arrest. Sir, you're going to be fine, just try to stay calm."
The old man looked briefly at Mulder, a strange mixture of regret and
acceptance on his face. Mulder watched as his pale blue eyes rolled
slowly back.
Scully was silent, sitting with a strange stiffness on the edge of the
now-still bed. Pulling at her sticky shirt, she let a wave of nausea
pass through her. This feeling, the feelings of the morning… they all
felt unlike her, strange and heavy, like swimming in molasses. She was
sure she was going to pass out.
The room was blistering. No cool breeze had ever blown here. Rising, she
stripped off her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse a bit. Right now, if
that old man had never appeared, they might be soaking in the blood-warm
waters of the lake. Maybe Mulder would lose some of his respect for her,
but at least she wouldn't be able to feel little rivers of sweat running
down her sides to dampen her waistband.
There was a gentle knock on the connecting door. She groaned inwardly.
"Hey," Mulder said, poking his head around the door. He seemed as
awkward as she felt.
"Hey," she said back, barely managing a small smile.
He slid into the room, his large size suddenly striking to her. He
filled her vision.
"So, what do you think of our dead informant? Quite a coincidence, eh?"
So he was going to talk about the case. That was something at least.
"No, Mulder. He was at least seventy-five years-old. He died of a heart
attack. That's all."
"So you don't think it's odd that he died right after telling us to
destroy the church?" He sat down next to her on the bed, a good two feet
away. It was unlike Mulder to respect her personal space. She felt
suddenly dizzy.
"Maybe," she said, feeling the bed sway beneath her.
"Scully?" He looked concerned. "Are you ok?"
"I'm really warm," she murmured. "I think I need to lie down."
He nodded and then did something she would never have expected. Standing
in front of her, he began to gently unbutton her shirt.
"Mulder," she tried to swat his hand away, but another wave of dizziness
overtook her. "What are you doing?"
"Getting you ready for bed," he said, with no trace of a tease in his
tone. "You're clearly suffering from heat exhaustion."
His hands popped the final button and he eased the shirt back from her
shoulders and off her arms. She had an irrational urge to cover her
breasts, though she was still wearing her bra, and though heaven knew he
had seen them before.
"You should take a cool bath," he whispered. "Your skin is flushed."
She looked up and met his gaze. He was looking at her with such
affection she nearly began to cry. Confusion had exhausted her last
resources.
"Oh Mulder," she sighed. "It's been such a long day and I'm so tired…"
"Rest then," he said softly, caressing her cheek. "I'll get your pajamas
and you can crawl into bed."
She nodded and waited while he opened her suitcase. He held up a pair of
blue satin pajamas and she felt their sweltering fabric against her skin
like the ghost of nights past. "No Mulder," she said. "Too hot. Do you
have a plain cotton t-shirt I could borrow?"
He smiled. "Scully, do you know what the suggestion of you in my t-shirt
does to me?"
He was only half-joking, she knew. Without the energy to banter, she
simply shook her head. He seemed immediately guilty for teasing her.
"I'll go get it right now, ok?"
She smiled weakly as he left the room. Her abdomen gave a sickening
twinge of pain, but she was too hot and tired to think about it.
Outside, the hum of insects and the barely working air-conditioner grew
suddenly softer. She turned to the window and felt the world go black
around her.
Mulder paced the room anxiously. The doctor was taking a very long time
in there. When he had returned to find Scully passed-out on the bed, he
was sure his heart had actually stopped beating. Lying there, her arms
splayed out beside her, she looked so much like the time she had gone
into anaphylactic shock that he rushed to her side expecting to hear
each breath come out through a closing throat. Instead he'd found that
she'd fainted, no doubt from her fever.
The bedroom door opened and he could see her, propped up on pillows, her
face still flushed, but awake and aware. He sighed with relief. The
doctor smiled.
"She's going to be fine."
Mulder nodded. He knew it already, just by seeing her face.
"What happened?"
The doctor was scribbling something on a pad, a prescription.
"She's got a nasty kidney infection. They can do that, creep up on you
from nowhere. I'm writing out something for an antibiotic. They can fill
it down town. Make sure she takes it for the full seven days. Doctors
make the worst patients."
Mulder nodded, accepting the little paper and attempting in vain to
decipher the scrawl.
"Oh and…" the doctor leaned forward, "…no sex for a couple days. It can
make the situation worse."
Swallowing a sudden need to laugh hysterically, Mulder smiled. "I don't
think that'll be an issue. She's my partner."
The doctor looked at him blankly.
"We're FBI. She's my work partner."
Nodding, the doctor smiled back. "Well, I would have warned you anyway…
wait a minute, you said you two are the FBI? Jesus, why didn't you tell
me?"
Mulder stared, unsure of why this would be important.
"You've got to get her out of here," the doctor said, urgent.
From behind the door, Mulder could see Scully's head lift a bit, trying
to hear what was going on.
"What are you talking about?" he asked.
"There are people in this town… look, they'll kill her if she stays."
From the bedroom, Scully's voice called out, raspy and weak.
"What are you implying, Doctor Rells? This is just a kidney infection.
Forty-eight hours on antibiotics and I should feel great."
"No, no…" the doctor paced, looking at each of them. "That's what I
would have said had you just been some honeymooning couple, but this…
there are people here who would stop at nothing to get you folks out of
town. I know, I've talked to some of them."
"Are you saying someone in town gave me a kidney infection? How is that
possible?" Scully was sitting up now, her interest piqued. Mulder
smothered the urge to push her back down.
"The same way it's possible they gave old John Crowler a heart attack.
The same way they killed Albert McGillicudy. Around here, you need only
to want something bad enough, and you'll get it. Good or bad. At least,
that's how I've always explained it to myself. Not that that's much of
an explanation."
"So…" Scully was pondering it, mulling it over, "… as a woman, I'm
susceptible to kidney infections. And if they were in some way
exacerbating existing medical conditions…"
"Yes," the doctor said, excited, "exactly. The energy they produce acts
on your body, I don't know how, but hell, I don't know how aspirin works
either. Somehow they're raising the level of bacteria in your kidneys,
causing them to multiply out of control."
"This is crazy," Scully said and the doctor's face fell. "Kidney
infections, heart attacks… these are all things that happen everywhere.
There's nothing strange about them."
"Look, I'm just trying to warn you. I can't be responsible for what
happens if you stay here. This thing may not go away. It may get worse.
And you saw how fast it came on…"
"Kidney infections are notorious for that," Scully interrupted. "It
doesn't prove anything."
Mulder sat down next to her on the bed, watching her fever-bright eyes
and seeing the determination there.
"I tell you what," he said. "I'm going to go get this prescription
filled. If you don't feel better in twenty-four hours, we're out of
here. That fair?"
The doctor and Scully nodded in unison, making Mulder smile. She would
have made a hell of a practitioner.
end part 5 of 7
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Date: Tue, 10 Aug 1999 16:01:12 -0700
From: Jessica Mabe
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