DEVIL'S ADVOCATE(1/4)

Tue Oct 08 1996
DEVIL'S ADVOCATE(1/4)
The "Unofficial" X Philes Novel
by:
CHERYL COHEN and ANNIE REED
aka
ImAStinker@aol.com and FancyKatz@aol.com

This story is based on the characters and situations created by
Chris Carter, the Fox Network and Ten Thirteen Productions. As such,
the characters named are the property of those entities and are used
without permission, although no copyright infringements are intended.

Life goes on.....

It had been a little over a month since her ordeal with Duane Barry
and only a couple of weeks since she'd been able to convince Mulder that
she was ready to return to work. Even now she could sense the internal
conflict that raged behind those intense, hazel eyes. *His* eyes . . .
they were so expressive and betrayed his feelings more often than he knew.
On one hand, he wanted her back by his side more than ever, yet on the
other hand, she felt his apprehension at her return to duty . . . and
possible danger.
She remembered only bits and pieces of what occurred between the
time of her abduction and when she awoke in a hospital bed much, much
later. However, she did know from her mother and sister's accounts, that
Mulder had been devastated. Taking her disappearance and subsequent coma
*particularly* hard, he had embarked on a dark path toward revenge and
self-destruction. Their portrayal of him during that time was very
disturbing to her for she knew he felt that he had lost her . . . and in
the process, he had lost himself.
She would always be grateful to her sister, Melissa, for her
"gifted" insight into Mulder's psyche that enabled her to "boot" him back
on course. It had been Dana's experience that Mulder too readily accepted
responsibility and guilt for incidents and situations over which he had no
control. In the end she had discovered that he had chosen life . . . and
*her* . . . over death and revenge.
When the nurses had told her of Mulder's nightlong vigil by her
side, she was 'touched' by his devotion. They'd informed her in great
detail of how he'd refused to leave until her mother arrived the next
morning to find that he d passed out in a chair, still holding her hand.
Only at her mother's insistence did he finally relent and go home.
Although no one had come right out and said it, she realized that when he
finally left, he believed she was close to death . . . that despite
everything he'd done, he'd failed to bring her back, and that the next call
from her mother would be the one to tell him that she had died.
It was very strange. She had no proof, no scientific documentation,
but in that limbo state between life and death, she had somehow felt his
presence and his unyielding strength of will . . . along with something
else. She remembered hearing his soft, insistent voice. He'd spoken to
her during that time, told her things--things about himself--about her . .
. and even though she could not recall any specific details, she knew he'd
bared his soul to her as a last effort to persuade her to stay. That part
of himself that was kept hidden and safe from all the hurt and pain, he lay
open before her as an offering . . . everything he was . . . anything he
had . . . it was hers. She remembered reaching out to accept his gift and
being suddenly embraced by the incredible warmth of an unconditional love
that she could not bring herself to leave behind. She reveled in its
gentle richness and followed the silver thread it spun away from death and
back to its source . . . FOX?....her soul had inquired in delighted
recognition. "I am *HERE*," his emotion filled voice had stated with firm
resolve.
She had never really discussed their relationship with her mother
or her sister. However, it didn't take a "psychic" to deduce from Mulder's
reactions to her "situation" that what they felt for one another was much
deeper than she'd led them to believe.
When she had first beheld him at the hospital, his dancing eyes
full of joy and concern, the halting smile, and faltering speech said it
all to her. Dana, she had thought to herself smugly, you can read him like
a book. His body language and unique nuances were second nature to her now
and spoke volumes even though to those who didn't know him like she did, he
may have seemed guarded and reserved. The truth was . . . (and she could
tell this by his hedging and furtive glances at her mother) that he was
uncertain as to what she had told them about him, so he said and did what
he thought was expected.
She remembered looking at her mom and sister's sly smiles and
realizing in amazement that Fox Mulder had already been accepted by them as
"family". She imagined that he had *no* idea in hell what a *feat* that
was.
Dana looked up from her thoughts to see Mulder staring at her again
for the umpteenth time this morning. A contented half-smile seemed to
arrange itself upon his face lately almost every time he looked at her. It
seemed as though he was mentally "pinching" himself just to make sure she
was real and not a figment of his imagination.
His tendency toward overprotection at this point was understandable
but it was becoming a little annoying. Ever since she had returned, he'd
only given her research and busy work to do and had allowed her to
accompany him only when he felt there would be no "dangerous" conflicts
involved. And when "unexpected" conflicts had occurred in one case, he had
taken unnecessary risks with his own life to keep her "safe. This had to
stop . . . it wasn't healthy for him, for their relationship or their
partnership. She was an "equal" partner, not just "backup.
Dana returned his gaze and stated firmly, "We have to talk."
"Sure, about what?" he replied with wide-eyed innocence.
"About *you* not letting *me* do my job," she answered purposefully
as she walked over to his desk and sat on one corner in a familiar pose.
"I don't understand what you mean," he lied ineptly while idly
pushing some innocuous papers around on the desktop.
"Yes, you most certainly do," she countered, placing her hand
affectionately on his arm and squeezing it. "You *can't* stop me from
living . . . just because you're afraid of me dying . . . " She looked into
his eyes and saw that he knew exactly what she meant.
He gazed at her with those big "puppy dog eyes." God, she thought
admiringly, those babies could melt holes in the polar ice caps.
He reluctantly conceded her point. Okay, I admit to being unfair
and overprotective. I apologize for not realizing it sooner. It's just
that . . . well . . . Life is so . . . *fragile*. I'm afraid . . . " he
admitted grudgingly, "afraid of losing you again. " He reached up and
tenderly touched her cheek, then brushed a lock of hair off her forehead.
"You've gotta help me with this. Next time I'm out of line . . . just
smack me, okay?"
"Well, you better straighten up . . . I don't want to be accused of
'partner abuse.'"
He grunted with amusement and held up what looked like two tickets.
"Skinner thinks we both need a vacation," he ventured teasingly with an
air of mystery.
"What's that?" she asked finally unable to contain her curiosity.
In her opinion, he appeared much too smug.
"Two round trip tickets to Bermuda . . . via Starlight Cruise
Lines," he grinned mischievously.
"Beg your pardon?" she asked suspiciously. "Why would Skinner send
*us* on a cruise?" There had to be a catch.
"Cause he's a 'hell of a guy'?" Mulder grinned. From the look on
her face, Mulder could tell Dana wasn't buying it. "No, huh? Okay, the
Bureau is sending us to investigate a series of murders on the Starlight
Bermuda cruise. The Starlight people claim that 'ghosts' have been
murdering their passengers." Dana arched one eyebrow at that remark.
Mulder stopped briefly, drinking in the sight . . . god, it was so good to
have her back. "Well, we both know how the higher-ups feel about 'ghost'
stories, so the Bureau disregarded their previous requests for help and
shoved the case under the proverbial carpet. Now it seems the Bureau's
been catching hell because one of the members of the Board of Directors of
Starlight Cruise Lines is a big shot senator with major connections on the
hill. He s been putting pressure on the right people, so now this has
become a job for . . . tah dah . . . Spooky Patrol!!!!" Mulder finished
with a flourish, waving the tickets under Dana's chin. "How's about us
mixing a little business . . . with pleasure? A little R&R would be nice."
"I don't think that's what Skinner had in mind," she laughed jokingly.
"Ah . . . but what Skinner doesn't know . . . won't hurt him, will
it?" he replied with a suitably devilish glint. "Besides, Skinner's not
such a bad guy."
Dana couldn't believe her ears. "Wait a minute . . . How did
Skinner go from 'that bureaucratic, bald-headed prick' . . . to 'not such a
bad guy'?"
"Things change," he commented with a sheepish grin. "Well . . .
whadda ya say . . . Mrs. Mulder?"
"What?" she squeaked in surprise. She definitely needed her ears
checked.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you . . . ah . . . that's our cover . . .
we're newlyweds . . . " he said in one quick burst and ducked his head for
the anticipated reaction. Damn, he'd guessed wrong. He thought she'd go
for the "noogie, or the "ear flick, but instead, she'd faked him out and
delivered a knuckled "charlie horse" to his arm that could've dropped a
charging rhino to his knees.
"Ow . . . !!, Jesus, Dana," he whined gingerly rubbing his arm.
He'd forgotten she'd grown up with two brothers. For a small package, she
sure could pack quite a mean punch.
"And just who's brilliant intellect came up with that original
cover story?" she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest and raised
one eyebrow in speculation. She already knew the answer . . . she just
liked to watch him squirm and she wasn't disappointed.
Mulder stared down at his toes and shifted his weight
uncomfortably. "Well . . . um . . . actually, it was *my* 'brilliant'
idea," he stated defensively. "I thought it was a plausible cover . . .
After all," he shot her a sidelong glance with smoldering eyes, "we've
already successfully fulfilled most of the 'requirements' for the role," he
commented with a self-satisfied grin.
"Since when did I ever make you come up with an 'excuse' to indulge
yourself?" she questioned him slyly.
"Never," he admitted, "It's just that I thought we could be
'convincing', and a little role playing could be . . . stimulating."
"In other words," she replied bluntly, "It gets you all hot,
horny, and hard."
"Well . . . Yeah, I guess so . . . something wrong with that?" he
commented in a slightly higher pitched voice that cracked unevenly over the
word 'guess'.
"Not a thing," she smiled engagingly.
Mulder's face turned a deep shade of red. Sometimes her directness
really caught him off guard. He had a sneaking suspicion that she just
enjoyed watching him blush.
"Starlight Cruises . . . Mulder, why does that name sound familiar?"
"Starlight specializes in theme cruises . . . they do a Star Trek
cruise, a honeymoon cruise for newlyweds only . . . " Mulder stopped as
Dana glared at him.
"Mulder, we're not gonna be surrounded by a bunch of moonstruck,
pie-eyed newlyweds, are we?"
"Not this time," he retorted. "The Bermuda cruise has always been
a murder mystery tour."
"How appropriate," Dana mused. She'd read about these types of
trips, where one of the guests or crew is "murdered" and the rest of the
passengers spend the cruise trying to find out who "dunnit." Only this
time it appeared the murders were for real.
"So when does this trip into the realm of amateur sleuthing begin?"
Dana inquired as she gracefully moved across the room to pour herself
another cup of coffee.
"Tomorrow morning, at 0900 hours," he quoted crisply, "and uh . .
. Scully?"
She turned back toward him with a questioning stare.
"Make sure you pack your bikini . . . I wanna be able to check for
mosquito bites," he snickered softly, and ducked again unsuccessfully as a
well-aimed wadded up paper ball bounced off the top of his head. He smiled
broadly. She could've bounced a brick off his head for all he cared and
he'd be grateful . . . just knowing that she was there to do it made him
feel warm, contented, and very lucky.
"Really Mulder," she teased, "I thought you'd conduct a more
thorough search than that. You'd be surprised at what you can hide under a
bikini . . . " With that remark, she turned on her heel and marched out
the door leaving him to choke on a retort that never made it past his lips.
His gaze followed her through the door and as he settled back down
into his chair, he heaved a sigh. God, that was one "ornery" woman. He
smiled.
Leaning forward, he started going through the cruise line case
files that cluttered his desk. There were fifteen deaths listed in all
over the last three weeks. They escalated from two deaths in the first
week, to five in the second, and to eight in the third. After studying
each individual case, he came to the conclusion that although the sheer
volume would make it highly unlikely, each death appeared to be accidental.
Either this company had the absolute worst safety record in history or
something unusual *was* indeed occurring here----and getting worse with
time.
He noted that the insidious and violent nature of the "accidents"
seemed to increase in proportion with the number of victims. He also
discovered with some chagrin that when the Bureau had refused to
acknowledge their requests for assistance, the company had complicated
matters by incorporating the deaths into the "game." On top of that, they
managed to worsen the situation even further by offering the amateur
sleuths a hundred thousand dollar reward if they could solve the murders
and bring the culprit or culprits to justice. Oh that's just great . . .
he and Dana were gonna have to fight over evidence and clues with a hundred
or so Sam Spade and Jessica Fletcher wannabes. Any evidence that would've
been present was probably all but destroyed or highly contaminated at best.
Another question kept nagging him---Why would normal, everyday
people continue to sign up for a cruise in which they had a pretty good
chance of becoming so much . . . fish food? He and Dana were going because
it was their job . . . but these people . . . he just didn't get it. He was
still warring with himself over exposing *her* to that kind of risk. He
knew he'd have to get past his feelings about it somehow and he accepted
the fact that it wouldn't be easy. So why would *these* people take that
kind of chance? Was it just the money? Was a hundred grand worth dying
for? Evidently some people obviously thought so. These cruises were
booked far in advance with waiting lists packed with people just *dying* to
get on board. In fact, the company had booted a couple off this cruise
just to make room for himself and Dana.
With that thought in mind, he shoved all the appropriate files in
his briefcase (he'd already committed their entire contents to memory, but
Dana might want to look over them herself). He then turned out the desk
lamp as he headed home to pack.

Dana took her suitcase down from the top shelf of her closet and
set it on her bed. Packing was the absolute worst part of any trip. She
turned around and frowned, contemplating the contents of her closet,
mentally compiling an inventory of what to take with her. Let's see, there
was sure to be some type of formal affair on board, so she'd need an
evening gown. She selected a floor length, deep blue gown with a plunging
back. The style was simple but elegant, and most importantly, the flowing
skirt hid deep pockets which would completely conceal her handgun. 'The
latest Paris fashions for the well-dressed agent,' she thought with a
snicker.
The remainder of her packing was done automatically . . . a bathing
suit (not a bikini . . . Mulder would just have to use his
imagination--that wouldn't be difficult for *him*), several coordinated
jogging outfits, jeans, sneakers, and a couple of sun dresses. Just in
case, she packed a waterproof windbreaker . . . given her recent string of
luck, they would be out in the middle of the ocean when the next hurricane
hit. Raiding her lingerie drawer, she selected several lacy under things,
along with a very sexy nightgown. Turning back to her closet, she spied a
silky, blue blouse hanging next to her work clothes. It was one of the
first things Mulder had given her during a very memorable evening which had
led, in fact, to their rather *unique* relationship. On impulse, Dana
pulled it off the hanger and added it to her suitcase.
Mulder . . . Dana fingered the cross around her neck as she thought
of him. Why was it that this man could make her so angry and steal her
heart so thoroughly all at the same time? He had carried her necklace with
him during the time she was gone, had worn it around his own neck, just to
have her close to him. And now that she was back he was "protecting" her
to death, smothering her with his concern to the point where she felt she
would strangle him.
Dana had never taken kindly to "mothering, not even from her own
mother. She had grown up a tomboy, determined to keep up with her
brothers, to hold her own with any man. Having a man protecting her was a
foreign experience and she wasn't sure that she liked it . . . at least not
to the extent she'd been subjected to lately. A little protectiveness was
nice, but Mulder was going overboard. She chuckled at the idea of Mulder
overboard, and then sobered as she remembered that this cruise was not
strictly for pleasure. People were dying on this ship.
Zipping up her suitcase, she wondered how Mulder was doing with his
own packing.

Mulder was confused. What in the hell did you pack for a cruise,
anyway? He'd never been on one . . . was it the same stuff he'd always
packed when he went on his other cases? He was at a complete loss.
Swallowing his pride, he finally admitted to ignorance and phoned Dana, who
quickly ran out of patience trying to explain the fine points of
"recreational" packing.
He figured that he was just getting the hang of what to throw into
the suitcase when the door flew open and Dana barged in under full steam.
She plopped her suitcase inside the door and joined Mulder by his bed,
staring at the jumbled mess mounded inside his open suitcase.
"Okay, Sherlock, show me what you've got," she mumbled, running one
hand through her hair.
"Right now?" he asked hopefully.
"What you have 'packed,'" she replied sternly with a patient scowl.
"Oh," he said with disappointment as he waived his arm in the
general direction of the untidy mound. "Just what you told me to pack."
She immediately began rummaging through the stack, folding things
as she went.
"Mulder, don't you have a tux?"
"Yeah, it's somewhere in the back of the closet--probably covered
with dust bunnies and cobwebs . . . why?"
She glanced at him with disbelief. "Because cruises usually have at
least one 'formal' affair on the schedule."
He frowned. "I thought you said that these things were 'fun'."
Getting stuck in a monkey suit was not his idea of fun.
"Mulder . . . what's this?" She held up a pair of faded sweat
pants, a shabby sweatshirt with ripped out sleeves, and a NY Knicks
baseball cap.
"Those are for jogging . . . you *said* casual, didn't you?"
"Geez, Mulder, there's casual wear and there's slum wear . . .
*This*," she said, holding up the offensive clothing, "is 'slum wear'."
"But I like 'em," he protested stubbornly.
"Do you want to be believable or not? No 'normal' male would wear
something like that on his honeymoon cruise," she countered.
"I would," he replied absently.
"Yes, but you and I *both* know that *you* are *not* * normal*,"
she chuckled lightly.
"I'm 'wounded' to the core," he pouted, lifting his hands in
supplication. "I give up! I leave my 'wardrobe' in your capable hands.
By the way . . . " He turned with a devilish grin, "Do *I* get to go
through *your* stuff, too?"
"Maybe---if you behave yourself." Dana smiled at him seductively.
"That's blackmail," he chided.
She faced him squarely and shrugged her shoulders. "If it
works....use it."
Mulder went into the bathroom to get his shaving kit together.
Shaving kit, Dana thought...what was the deal with that little black bag
that men always put their shaving stuff into anyway? It was almost like
the masculine equivalent of a makeup kit, but any man would go ballistic if
you suggested the similarity. The little black bag was a masculine
constant.....she remembered her dad having one, and her brothers, the last
time she saw them, each had their own. She didn't carry a makeup kit
herself. Her makeup, such as it was, was thrown in a bag stashed at the
bottom of her suitcase. If she lived to be a hundred, there were some
things about men Dana knew she would never understand.
Turning back to her 'assignment', she paused momentarily.
"Oh....what's this?" she mumbled out loud, picking up a scrap of red cloth
much too small to fold properly. Red Speedos? No way....not on *this*
trip. Actually she really *loved* the red Speedos but so would the
'rest' of the female population on this cruise----nope, not a chance. Red
Speedos are *definitely* out. She deftly wadded up the swim trunks, threw
them under the bed and replaced the tiny garment with a more conservative
pair of OPs.....sorry girls, she thought to herself wryly, I'm not willing
to share.
Mulder ambled back into the room as she slammed his suitcase shut.
" Any room for this?" he said, handing her the inevitable black shaving
kit. Dana snickered as she opened the suitcase to make space for the kit.
If in nothing else, in shaving accessories at least, Mulder was a "normal"
male.
"That ought to do it," she said with satisfaction as she watched
him lean into the door frame to languidly scratch the area between his
shoulder blades.
He studied her with a doubtful expression. "You *did* leave me
with *something* familiar to wear....didn't you?"
Dana didn't say anything, she only smiled sweetly.
Uh oh.....He knew from past experience that the 'who....little ole'
me---*whatever* do you mean', smile was a harbinger of nothing but trouble.
"Dana," he ventured cautiously, "please tell me you *didn't*
explode a GQ magazine inside my suitcase." He did not even want to think
about what the salt air would do to Armani suits or silk shirts.
She ignored his remark and commented, "Ya know Mulder, you have
some really nice clothes here. Why don't you ever wear any of them?"
He slapped his hand to his forehead and exclaimed, "Oh my God, you
did......I'm gonna have to spend this entire case walking around looking
like an ad from some yuppie men's magazine." He paced around the room,
pondering the image distastefully. "And what do you mean--- I don't wear
nice clothes? I have to wear a damn suit almost every day of my goddamn
life," he grumbled. He looked up just in time to see a shadowed emotion
cloud over her face and settle upon her lips in the form of a "hurt" little
pout.
Oh, Jesus....not "the pout", he thought with dismay. He could take
just about anything but *that* and tears. Dana wasn't the crying
type....Hell, she didn't have to be. "The pout" was just as effective and
it didn't ruin her makeup or leave her eyes red and puffy. There was just
*something* about that full protruding bottom lip that never failed to melt
him into a puddle of mush, and Dana knew it. Knowing that she could turn
it on at a moment's notice didn't seem to matter....it still had the same
effect on him -- panic. Now you've done it, he berated himself. You've
hurt her feelings....she's upset...and you're in deep shit. Give it up,
Mulder.....you're never gonna win, he reminded himself.
He walked over to her, stood silently for a moment, then held out
his hands to her, palms up in a gesture of conciliation. "You're right,"
he stated factually. "If we're gonna pose as newlyweds, I suppose I should
'look' the part," he agreed with a sheepish grin, but his eyes held a glint
that clearly said that if he was expect to *look* the part, he expected to
*act* the part as well. He wasn't about to give up totally, though, and
in a pleading tone asked, "can I at least bring one 'slummy' thing with
me?"
One corner of her mouth curled up in a smile as she retrieved the
Knicks ball cap from the bed and placed it backwards upon his
head...."There," she teased, "does Mulder have his 'blankie' now?"
Mulder gazed down at her with barely contained mischief. "Wonder
how it'd look with a 'Tuxedo' on the Lido?" he quipped with shades of Dr.
Seuss.
Damn, she wouldn't put it past him to wear that blasted thing with
his tux to the parties these cruises always seemed to throw on the Lido
Deck. Then she had a thought of her own---
"Wonder how it'd look on a 'Fox' in just socks?" she snickered in reply.
"Better than the 'tux'," he bragged teasingly.
"Prove it," she challenged, shoving him gently backward, her hands
lingering on his chest, busy undoing the buttons on his shirt.
God, sometimes she could be insufferably 'pushy'.....yet he
discovered early on that he 'liked' her to tell him....show him...what she
wanted, and he was somewhat 'surprised' when he found it strangely
*erotic*....a real turn on.
"No, you prove it," he smiled, as he pushed her forward gently and
slid his hands beneath her blouse to caress the warm skin underneath. My
god, it never ceased to amaze him how 'soft' she was....No one had a right
to be that soft.... His fingers moved over her skin seemingly of their own
accord, and he breathed in the scent of her, already forgetting about
packing, the cruise..... the case. He'd always found it difficult to
believe that she could do this to him....make him forget about time and
space and anything but the consuming fire that burned through his brain and
into his soul and anywhere else she touched him. The thought that he had
nearly lost her stayed with him always....and the thought that *she* wanted
to please *him* made him humble.
"I will," she answered his smile with a seductive one of her own.
She felt the tension in his body mount as she slid her arms around him and
slowly scrunched the shirt out from beneath his jeans with her fingers.
Brushing her fingertips ever so lightly up his sides, she then slipped the
shirt off his shoulders and let it drop half way down his arms before she
surprised him by reaching around, grabbing the shirttails and pulling them
tightly in front of his waist, gently pinning his arms to his side. Her
full lips teasingly caressed his chest as the nimble fingers of one hand
expertly released his belt buckle and snap, her hand lingering temptingly
just below the loosened waistband. She noted with satisfaction that he
trembled under her touch even though his body radiated an incredible heat.
Her other hand finally released the shirt and let it fall to the floor.
Mulder shuddered with an effort at control as she brought her hands up,
lightly traced her fingertips down his spine and grasped what she
considered the world's most perfect ass in both hands. He gasped out loud,
encircled her with his arms, and drew her close. Then he held her tightly
against his chest for several minutes as if he were afraid to let go. Dana
didn't protest....she sensed his need for closeness...for confirmation of
the fact that she indeed, really *was* there and *not* going anywhere. He
finally slid his hands carefully and purposefully up the curves of her
body, cupped her face in their gentle strength and kissed her long and deep
with a force of emotion so powerful that its resonance overwhelmed her and
left her dizzy.
This was the first time they'd actually been intimate since before
her abduction and she wanted---no, *needed* to prove to him as well as to
herself that not only was she ready for work....she was ready for *him*
too. They hadn't exactly planned on this. It just happened like it
usually did--spontaneous combustion. She was 'unprepared' and so was he.
Due to recent circumstances, she hadn't been on the pill in months, but
she'd be damned if she was gonna stop now. Tomorrow they'd start their
case and even though it was a 'cruise', it was *still* a case and there'd
be little time for personal pursuits. They would be Agents Mulder and
Scully. He'd be her imagination and she'd be his anchor in reality.
Together they'd solve this thing and hopefully come out of it in one piece.
But *this*, however, *this* was *their* time--right here--right
now--*their night*....and she was gonna enjoy it like there'd be no
tomorrow. Because she'd discovered first hand that 'tomorrows' were a
precious, uncertain commodity that may never come at all.
Her mouth blended to his with renewed fervor as they sank to the
floor at the foot of his bed, where he made slow, passionate, and
deliberately erotic love with her. He played her senses like a master
virtuoso...each note in perfect pitch...each chord in total harmony. His
love was a symphony and his imagination--its conductor. He came to her
over and over again...different music with different arrangements,
performed with perfection until exhaustion took its toll and they collapsed
together after one final, powerful crescendo. They lay motionless,
entwined in the darkness with the soft, steady ticking of the clock on the
night stand as their only reminder of the passage of time.

(continued part 2)

M&S---EP---Smoker for Scully---------------------------Queen of Angst

XAngst Anonymous "Please explain to me the
and Myth Patrol scientific nature of the Whammy."
Construction Site -- Scully, in "Pusher"

xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner

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_ _
\ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous
\ / email fanfic list, please write:
X A N G S T Anonymous
/ \ & xangst@frii.com
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From xangst@frii.com Wed Oct 09 04:27:07 1996
DEVIL s ADVOCATE (part 2)
The "Unofficial" X Philes Novel
by:
CHERYL COHEN and ANNIE REED
aka
ImAStinker and FancyKatz @ aol.com

Mulder awoke with a familiar ringing in his ears. He reached over
to automatically slap the clock off the night stand but encountered carpet
instead, realizing belatedly that he was still on the floor. He turned over
slowly and chuckled to himself. Dana even slept with a 'smirk' on her
face.
He also realized that he d neglected to tell her last night that
they'd be getting up at 4:30 in the morning, so he figured that she
wouldn't be in the best of moods. Hell, face it Mulder, he thought with
some trepidation, experience has taught you that she's gonna be down right
'cranky', so it would be to your advantage to wake her as pleasantly as
possible. While lightly brushing his lips along the curve of her neck, he
expertly slid his hand beneath the sheet they'd pulled off the bed during
the night, letting his fingers work their magic. After several minutes of
her squirming, wriggling, and moaning, she finally managed to open her eyes
and smile.
"Time to get up," he yawned, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
She looked up at the clock on his night stand . "Mulder, it's 4:30
in the morning," she mumbled groggily, "didn't you say the cruise started
at 0900 hours?"
"Yeah, the ship leaves port at 0900 but our flight to Miami leaves
Dulles at 0600, so get your butt in gear," he said cheerfully.
How can he be so damned 'chipper', she thought to herself. When
she realized that time frame involved here was really tight, she bolted to
her feet, wrapping herself up in the sheet, and glared at him. "You mean
to tell me that I only have a half an hour to get ready?"
"What's to get ready?" he replied, truly puzzled. "Everything is
packed."
"For one thing......I need to take a shower," she insisted.
"I thought you said you took one before you came here."
"I did." She stared at him accusingly, then at the spot where
they'd 'slept', then back at him.
He finally got the message <I guess things did get a little
'untidy'> He turned and sputtered, "Ah.....yeah.....a shower would be
nice--you go take one while I put this stuff in the car." <Of course she'd
need a shower, stupid...Mulder, sometimes you're a total idiot---why does
she put up with you?>
He hauled the luggage out to the car and had just stepped back into
the apartment when he heard her yell his name.
"MULDER!!!!!"
"Oh shit," he mumbled out loud. He'd forgotten what he'd
done....he didn't know exactly why he'd done it, except that it was one of
those impulsive things that seemed like a good idea at the time. He
remembered waking up in the middle of the night and seeing her exquisite
bottom staring him in the face. The covers had fallen off and it was just
'there'. He also saw the magic marker on the night stand and Mulder with a
marker was somewhat akin to a street artist with a can of spray paint and
an empty wall---he couldn't resist.
Dana stalked out of the bathroom, dropped the towel, and pointedly
looked down over her right shoulder at her rear... There on her right
butt cheek, perfectly scripted in bold block letters, was the message: 'Hi,
I'm Dana...If found, please return to Fox Mulder, c/o FBI HQ, Washington,
D.C." And on the other cheek a collection of smiling little happy faces
looked back over at the message. She stood there holding the towel in
front of her, glaring at him. "Mulder, what the hell is this?" It seemed
that the bathroom wasn't the only thing that was steamed.
Fox stood in the doorway sporting a look that was reminiscent of a
puppy who'd just been caught chewing up his master's best leather pump.
"Graffiti?" he choked hoarsely and ducked back out the door before she
could find something unpleasant to throw at him.
Mulder relentlessly paced the sidewalk in front of his apartment
like a caged tiger, muttering to himself under his breath. "Why couldn't
you resist temptation and behave yourself....just once? You just *had* to
do it--didn't you? Now, not only do you have to watch your back for the
bad guys--you're gonna have to keep looking over your shoulder for *her*
too.....cause you *know* she's gonna get ya for this." He sighed heavily
and plopped down onto the stoop to wait for her. No way was he going back
into his apartment, not yet.
Dana grabbed her towel, stomped back into the bathroom, and caught
a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. She stopped and took a closer
look at his "handiwork." Now that she'd gotten over the initial shock of
finding words and illustrations written on a particularly personal part of
her anatomy, she decided that it really wasn't half bad. If she ever did
become 'misplaced' again, <God forbid>, there would certainly be *no* doubt
about who to contact. She laughed out loud as another thought invaded her
awakened imagination. <Why don't you just tell him to hang one of those
'clap on / clap off' key chains around your neck? On second thought, you
better not mention the first thought....he's just nuts enough to consider
it as an option.> She chuckled loudly as she dressed. Never before had
anyone written 'graffiti' on her butt. Leave it to Mulder to be the one to
think of it. She really couldn't be angry with him, though, for the more
she thought about it, the funnier it seemed. That was a frightening
thought---- that she actually 'understood' his 'out there', bizarre sense
of humor. At times she found herself regarding him as a 'living' version
of a 'Far Side' cartoon. One thing was certain...life with Mulder was
*never* dull.
She did a quick makeup job, collected her things, and quietly
stepped outside into the slightly polluted fresh air of a D.C. morning.
The sky was just starting to glow warmly in the east with the promise of
the new day. Dana still couldn't believe she was up this early, especially
after the workout she'd received last night. Standing at the top of the
stoop, she momentarily studied the hunched figure seated near the bottom
step, then silently descended to his position and sat down beside him.
He acknowledged her presence by reluctantly meeting her gaze with a
suitably repentant expression. "I promise," he said, reaching over to
claim her hand with his own, "I won't do anything like that again....I'm
sorry."
"Yes, you will," she chortled, "you can't help yourself....and I
wouldn't want you any other way." Relief shown clearly on his face.
"Mulder, sometimes you are totally off the wall.....I think that's one of
the things that I 'like' about you." She smiled and patted his knee. "You
totally screw up the order of my world...just when I have 'all my little
ducks in a row', you come along, unceremoniously blow them all out of the
water and throw everything into tilted, eschewed angles. It can be a real
pain in the ass.....but it sure makes life a hell of a lot more fun and
interesting." She leaned in, kissed him gently on the cheek, then took
his hand and hauled him up with her as she stood.
"Come on, Mulder, we've got a plane to catch and a case to
solve.....oh, and next time, make sure you give me at least an hour to get
ready or I'm gonna shoot you."
He followed her to the car and opened the door. "At least now I
know what you can hide under a bikini....." he remarked at he got in.
She rolled her eyes heavenward and shook her head....this was
definitely gonna be a trip to remember. "Shut up, Mulder."

Mulder and Scully sat in backed up traffic on the freeway off ramp
with a perfect, panoramic view of the airport.
"We're not gonna make it," she said anxiously, "It's 5:30
now--we're never gonna get through this mess by 6:00. So close.....yet so
far away." She turned in her seat, looking at the cars stacked up in all
the lanes as far as the eye could see. "Looks like you can't get there
from here, Mulder."
"Oh ye of little faith," Mulder remarked with his best evangelical
voice as he twisted the ball cap around into 'sniper' position and shifted
his body into a determined pose.
"What this situation calls for is some good old fashioned 'London'
driving techniques----and I learned from the best." His mouth took on a
determined set. "Hold on to your breakfast, Scully, cause we're goin' for
a little ride."
She opened her mouth to ask just what he had in mind, but her
voice was suddenly eclipsed by the sound of a revving engine and squealing
tires.
"Oh Sweet Jesus, Holy Mary, Mother of God!!!!!" she exclaimed in
one loud burst. He was driving on the angled concrete embankment. She
forcefully clamped her hands down on the dashboard, squeezing her eyes
tightly shut. She said every prayer she could think of that she'd learned
since she was five years old, then held her breath.
He sped the car to the front of the line and bullied his way in
before the lead car amid obscene gestures and yells that questioned his
family background. "Chill pal, you'll get over it," she heard him mumble
under his breath as the car screeched to a halt in front of the terminal.
He leapt out of the car removed the suitcases from the trunk, and threw
them onto the sidewalk. Moving to the passenger side he opened the door,
stating with satisfied glee, "see, told ya we'd make it.....fifteen minutes
to spare at that!!!!" He looked down only to find Dana frozen in position,
holding her breath with a death grip on the dashboard. He pried her hands
loose and pulled her out of the car. "Dana?.....are you OK?....Dana?..."
She merely stared at him, slightly dazed, and gasped, "oh
fine...I'm just dandy, Mulder...." <son of a bitch>
"Check the bags in...I'll go park the car," he said with relief as
he hopped back in the car and drove away. Dana stood on the sidewalk
watching the rapidly retreating vehicle. She shook her head to clear it,
and then bent to pick up their bags. What was that about life never being
dull with Mulder? In the last couple of minutes dull suddenly sounded
pretty damn good.
When he returned, she was waiting impatiently at the desk, a litany
repeating in her head....<He's a maniac....your partner's a maniac....geez,
and what does that make you? You're with him......I'm gonna kill you,
Mulder....one of these days, you're just gonna go too far.....oh, you're
just sooo impossible...>
He ran up to her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her through the
concourse at breakneck speed, reaching the boarding gate just as the last
passenger was walking onto the ramp. They handed over their passes,
boarded the plane, and took their seats.
He was exhilarated, she could tell. His cheeks were pink from
running through the airport, his eyes were glinting with good humor, and he
was actually grinning at her. She sat calmly in her seat as the plane took
off and he noticed that the anxiety she usually displayed when she had to
fly was conspicuously absent. When he made a remark to that affect, she
merely arched one eyebrow and sighed, "Mulder, I've come to the conclusion,
after riding with you.....that flying is not half as dangerous or scary as
I had previously believed. Just a thought....why didn't we start out
earlier?"
One corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile and his eyes
sparkled with just plain orneriness. "Cause I *know* how much you hate
waiting....and we didn't have to wait once yet all morning..."
She thought about slugging him, but at this point she just didn't
have the energy. Instead she simply closed her eyes and whispered between
clenched teeth, "Mulder....two things...first, take off that stupid
hat....second, take a nap."
He shot her a 'hurt' expression and replied with a mock insulted
voice, "I'll have you know that this is not just any *ordinary* stupid
hat....this *stupid* hat is *autographed* and very valuable." He saw that
she was *not* impressed and was, in fact, becoming just a tad irritable,
so he quickly added, ".......and I'll take it off and put it right over
here." He took it off and pointedly hung it on the arm of his seat. "
There, now it's safe' and out of sight." He smiled his most engaging smile
in an attempt to lighten her mood.
She recognized his obviously blatant attempt to 'butter her up' and
couldn't help but laugh. "I'm sorry....guess I'm just a little stressed
and tired." She reached over and affectionately squeezed his hand.
"Serves me right for keeping you up so late.....in the future, I'll
try to be more cognizant of 'time'."
"Don't you *dare*, " she smirked. She smoothed out the top of his
hair. Those damn caps that he insisted on wearing always left his hair in
a mess....not that he cared.
He tilted his head slightly and winked.
"As for taking a nap---It'll have to wait....at least until I brief
you on what we're up against here, since I didn't have a chance to do it
last night." Mulder pulled some papers from his carry on bag and handed
them to Dana.
"I had Byer at the Lone Gunman take the passenger lists for every
cruise over the last three weeks and run them through his computer system
to compare for repeat passengers. There were ten in all. Then Frohike
obtained dossiers on those. Out of the ten, three were consecutively
killed during the three week period. Of the remaining seven, two did not
rebook for this cruise, leaving five who were present on every
trip....including the one we're about to take. Now *that* was the easy
part."
He shifted in his seat so that he faced her, "All members of the
crew, on the other hand, were present on every cruise, so narrowing down
suspects among *them* is gonna be tricky. However, Frohike, being the
diligent, obsessive soul that he is...ran dossiers on everybody, including
the first mate's mother. Since the combination of case files and dossier
reports resulted in a stack of paper nearly two inches thick, I decided to
just commit them to memory and brief you as we go. I guess photographic
memory isn't *always* a drag," he managed to mumble sardonically.
Dana stared at him in surprise. "Am I imagining this, or are you
taking a 'conventional' approach to this case? I mean, you haven't even
mentioned 'ghosts', or spirits, aliens, or psychic phenomena even *once*
yet. Mulder, are you feeling okay?"
He heard the chiding in her voice and replied in a mildly annoyed
tone, "Dana...I haven't mentioned it because as of this moment, I have yet
to find any evidence that any paranormal activity has occurred. All I have
is the company's assertion that it has. I claim the right to reserve
judgment until I've spoken to witnesses and examined whatever evidence is
available. I need 'proof'. " He glanced at her almost shyly. "*You*
taught me that. Meanwhile, here's what we've got to work with. Number
one: The cruises occur on a weekly basis. Number two: Ten passengers
repeated the cruise more than once. Three: three of those passengers
have died at a rate of one per cruise..along with the other victims. Four:
two of the passengers failed to return for another trip---and I don't
believe they should be precluded from investigation. Five: This company's
been in business for twenty years and this is the first time that I know of
that anything like this has ever happened. Maybe we should consider what
may have 'changed' three weeks ago--what's different now than it has been
for the last twenty years. Six: The five remaining passengers are our
immediate suspects at this time. I'm hoping it's one of them cause it
would make things a lot easier. But with my luck the whole damn crew is
probably in on it and I'll be eighty-two before I can sort em' all out."
He sighed heavily and rubbed the corners of his eyes with his thumb and
forefinger. "Got any aspirin? I'm getting a major headache...wonder why?"
"Could be from all the information you've tried to cram in there
over past few hours," she observed as she pulled a small bottle of aspirin
from her purse and handed it to him.
He gratefully swallowed the pills, settled down in his seat, closed
his weary eyes, and promptly...fell asleep.
'Amazing', she thought to herself, as she kept her vigil over the
peacefully slumbering figure. Any other time, she would have had to watch
him 'struggle' just to take a nap, yet every time they flew, he would
practically pass out in his seat with minimal effort. Maybe it was the air
pressure or something....It could be worth looking into, she pondered as
she too drifted off to sleep.
Too soon, it seemed, she was rudely awakened by the jolt of landing
gear on the runway. She found herself snuggled comfortably against
Mulder's chest with his face resting on top of her bowed head. Funny how
they tended to gravitate toward each other even when they slept.
The Miami airport terminal was packed with every shape, size, and
color of tourist imaginable....a claustrophobic nightmare. Thousands of
people...all going somewhere. It reminded her of Grand Central Station at
rush hour.
She sat down tiredly on a bench while Mulder went to track down
their luggage at baggage claim. She waited for nearly a half an hour and
then began to worry. <Where in the hell is he? I swear, you send him to do
something simple and he's probably created a crisis out of it.....either
that or he's gotten himself lost again...I've never seen anybody with such
a crummy sense of direction. You d think someone with photographic memory
could at least remember where s he s going.> She was just about to get up
and go looking for him, when she spotted him headed toward her through the
crowd.....empty handed.
She faced him with a sense of dread, "Mulder, where's our luggage?"
He bit his bottom lip and squinted his eyes. "Right now?" he hedged.
Dana tilted her head and expelled a short puff of air.
"Yes...right now...." she growled.
Mulder rubbed his chin for a couple of seconds as if mentally
calculating some kind of mathematical formula and stated with typical
aplomb, "oh, I'd say right about now, at this very minute...it's probably
somewhere between Atlanta and Newark. It appears that our bags decided to
take separate vacations. Don't worry though...the airline said they would
compensate us for our 'inconvenience'. Hope they have a big checkbook,
Dana, cause I for one plan to be one big 'inconvenient' bastard. Let's
go...we're running late."
"So what else is new..." she commented with just a hint of sarcasm
as they left the concourse and flagged down a cab.
Mulder had the cabbie pull over about a block away from the port
and park in front of a section of expensive looking boutiques. He paid the
driver, got out, opened the passenger door and carefully extracted Dana
from the cab and unto the sidewalk.
"What the hell are you doing?" she exclaimed in surprise. "The
ship leaves in an hour!"
"Well...." he said patiently like a professor instructing a
student, "Unless this is a cruise for 'nudists,' and I don't think it
is.....we're both gonna need some clothes."
Dana nodded in agreement but whispered with embarrassment,
"Mulder, I don't think there's enough space on my card for a *whole* new
wardrobe, especially from shoppes like these..."
Mulder glanced down at her with a somewhat amused expression.
"Lucky for you, I'm a man with few expenses and an American Express Card
with no limit and nothing on it....space is one thing that I have in
abundance." He grinned broadly, took her by the hand and proceeded to drag
her into one of the larger stores, where he deposited both her and his card
in front of the saleslady. "We have exactly 45 minutes," he told the woman
politely as he palmed her several bills. "Get her whatever she wants and
have it sent to the port before 9:00." He then gave her the information on
the ship and strolled out the door to attend to his own needs.
Thirty minutes later he met Dana in front of the shop and they
walked briskly to the port, breezed through customs, and boarded the ship
without further incident.
They'd made it....she'd had her doubts....but they *had* made it.
Mulder never ceased to amaze her....he'd not been phased once during this
whole fiasco. He just seemed unstoppable once he set his mind on
something....she'd always admired that about him. The more obstacles you
put in his way, the more stubborn he'd become and that relentless
determination always seemed to get him through to the end.
She sighed and finally started to relax a little, while he strolled
nonchalantly beside her like the whole morning had been nothing more than a
walk in the park. Suddenly, he jerked her elbow and when she looked up, he
nodded toward the purser's desk. Following his gaze, she spied an older
woman of about fifty wearing a very loud, flowered dress topped by what
looked like a handmade sweater, and carrying a very large handbag with
what appeared to be an orange cat's tail twitching out from under one
corner. That thought was confirmed as the animal yowled...maybe it didn t
like being stuffed in that handbag. The woman wore a wide brimmed straw
hat that sported several huge artificial flowers of nonconforming colors.
Dana looked up at Mulder with a questioning stare. In reply he stated in a
low voice..."Suspect number one," he smirked. "Mrs. Charlotte
O'Keefe....widow....age 52...no children..." He snickered lightly as he
also noticed the animal's active tail, "...one cat. She writes mystery
novels for a living and evidently is quite successful at it."
Dana took another look at the woman. Mrs. O'Keefe was bending
slightly over the counter haggling with the uniformed gentleman behind it
as he gestured at her handbag. No doubt having some sort of discussion
about the cat...who in their right mind brought a cat on board a cruise
ship anyway?? She sort of reminded Dana of a loose cross between Mrs.
Doubtfire and Tootsie, with a little bit of the head nun from her parochial
school years thrown in for good measure. She even had her hair in that
weird sort of helmeted, little ole lady bun, and someone really needed to
tell her that all that makeup was not in the least bit attractive. But a
suspect?
"Mulder," she asked in an incredulous voice, "you don't seriously
suspect *her*?"
"Why not?" he asked, honestly puzzled.
Dana stared at the woman one more time. "I mean....she looks like
someone's grandmother for crying out loud."
Mulder arched one eyebrow and commented with a voice slightly
tinged with humor. "And Ma Barker was a loving 'mommy' too."
"Point taken," she conceded. "I just hope she's not anywhere near
our deck.....I'm allergic to cat hair. That's all I need....sneezing,
runny nose, watering eyes....no thank you." She twitched slightly just
thinking about it.
"I wouldn't worry about it. I've heard Mrs. O'Keefe only travels
first class, and the way the Bureau works.... we'll probably be down in the
engine room somewhere. And speaking of cabins, I don't know about you," he
quipped lightly ,"but I for one would like to get the key to our cabin and
get settled in before I start sticking my nose into everybody's business."
He casually strolled over to the desk and picked up the key to
their assigned cabin. The man behind the desk was very polite and
apologized profusely over not being able to give them the honeymoon suite.
"I am truly sorry, Mr. Mulder," he stated, his Indian accent tinged with
sincere regret, "but there was only one cancellation and it was an inside
cabin with an upper and lower berth.... Of course, we will endeavor to
make your trip as pleasurable as possible. If you should require anything
at all....my name is Koran Soote--you can call me Kor....please call on me
and I will be most happy to assist you."
Mulder grinned slightly, "Thanks...Kor....I guess beggars can't be
choosers... can they?" He turned to Dana as they walked away. "Think his
parents were Trekkies? Funny...he doesn't look like a Klingon. People on
the Star Trek Cruise must have a field day with that name," he laughed
softly.
They reached the cabin. As Mulder opened the door an avalanche of
bags and boxes baring the embossed name of the shoppe he'd left Dana at
spilled out into the hallway and onto his feet. He tilted his head to one
side and favored Dana with a wry smile. "Give a woman 45 minutes and
limitless space on a credit card and she'll do her damnedest to fill it up
anyway.... so much for limitless space. Did you get 'everything' you
needed?" he asked, doubt written clearly on his face. He shoved several
stacks of boxes into the hallway to clear a path into the cabin. "I think
you're gonna have to unpack this stuff first.... just so I can *find* what
I bought."
Mulder stopped short when he realized the small dimensions of their
cabin. "Whoa... this room is about the size of a large bathroom. I bet my
closet's bigger than this," he commented with disappointment.
"Come on, Mulder, this is a ship," Dana replied, grabbing the
nearest box. "What were you expecting, the Hilton? Besides, it's not
really *that* small."
"It is if you're 6'1" and not munchkin size like some people I
know." He made a point of staring directly at her. "In that case.... I
suppose it's just a little 'cramped'."
She gave a snort and replied, "Oh, quit complaining and help me put
these things away, ok?" She began opening boxes and placing things in the
small dresser that sat flush against the wall. He took the hint and also
began going through the boxes on the floor. He knew *his* stuff had to be
in there somewhere, but right now its location was as mysterious as the
lost continent of Atlantis.
"Hey, I *like* this," he murmured seductively. She turned to see
him balancing some scant, black, lacy underthing up in the air with one
finger. She reached over and snatched it off of his finger, tossing it
into the drawer. "Later, Sherlock....and only if you're a good boy," she
teased ruthlessly.
"I'm always 'good'.... sometimes too good for my own good.....," he
managed a pout as he continued to hunt for his elusive clothing. Where in
the hell were *his* things? He raised himself up and plopped down on the
bottom bunk with a long, heavy, sigh. "I give up," he uttered in defeat.
"If in your quest for the perfect wardrobe, you happen to find some very
expensive clothing that's about ten times too big for you.....they're
mine." He stifled a yawn, lowered the upper part of his body onto the bunk
which was about a foot shorter than he was and closed his eyes.
"And just *what* do you think you're doing?" she asked, slightly
miffed as she came across a stack of packages from a different shop.
"Resting my eyes," he mumbled cooly. He was suddenly jolted to
alertness by the smack of something cool and silky hitting him in the face.

"I found your things," she commented querulously. Mulder scrunched
the boxers from his face with one hand, sat up without thinking, and
cracked his head on the bottom of the upper bunk.
"Ow....Shit!!!" he yelped in pain. "I think maybe you should take
the bottom bunk, huh??" He took his hand away from his head and studied
the drops of blood on his fingertips. "At least the ceiling doesn't have
springs hanging out of it."
"Are you okay?" she inquired with concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he grunted, "as fine as a person can be who's
just been attacked by a bed..... always knew there was a reason I didn't
like them." He got up very slowly, picked up his things that she'd had
shoved over to him and attempted to find an empty drawer. No luck.
"Ah......Dana....?"
"What is it *now*?" she mumbled impatiently.
"Could you just .....move your things over just a bit? I mean, I'd
really like *some* of my stuff in a drawer instead of doubling as carpeting
for the floor."
"You should have thought about *that* when you were 'resting your
eyes,'" she snapped tersely.
Mulder's eyebrows knitted in contemplation as he mentally brought
up a calendar in his head. <Nope....too early for PMS.....must be not
enough sleep and jet lag...either that or you managed to piss her off
again---perhaps....a combination of not enough sleep, jet lag, and
......okay, what did you do to piss her off this time? Time for a
review...Mulder. Ya kept her up too late; got her up too early; rushed
her; and then....ya let *her* unpack almost everything. Bingo!!! For
someone who's supposed to be sooo smart, where women are
concerned...sometimes Mulder, you've got shit for brains...It's gonna take
some fancy maneuvering and serious butt kissing (he shamelessly found that
thought tremendously appealing) to get you back on solid ground here.>
He got up silently, crossed the room and squeezed two suits and a
tuxedo into an already overflowing closet. He stood there quietly staring
at her and smiled. "Ya know, Dana, I don't think these murders are such a
big mystery after all...."
Startled, she looked up at him in surprise. "Why do you say that?"
she asked, her anger temporarily forgotten and her curiosity piqued.
"All I have to do is find out if any of these people shared a
cabin. If they did, chances are they probably killed each other," he
remarked with a sardonic smirk.
She sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by boxes and
paper....opened her mouth...closed it....grinned, snorted, chuckled, and
then broke out into a peal of uninhibited laughter. He kicked several
boxes out of the way as he walked back to her and dropped to the floor
beside her. "I'm sorry I didn't help you more," he commented in between
gasps, for her laughter was contagious and he found himself succumbing to
it in a big way. "I.....well, sometimes......sometimes, I just don't
think.....forgive me? Please???..... I'll have you know that you're the
*only* person I would ever 'grovel' to....." She nodded in affirmation
and got the hiccups.
"Let's get the rest of this stuff put away cause we have an
orientation meeting at 1100 hours to 'instruct' us on how to 'play the
game.' Hopefully, we'll get to see the other suspects as well." He piled
the last of the packages' contents into a drawer and shoved it closed with
his foot. "That's the last of it," he said with satisfaction.
The smile left Mulder's face suddenly, as if someone switched off
a light. He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, swaying on his feet When
he opened his eyes again, he began taking deep, labored breaths, and he
shook his head as if to clear it. "Let's get the hell out of here before I
lose what's left of my sanity," he said, grabbing the key off the dresser
with one hand and Dana with the other. Without another word, he barged
through the door and out into the hall, dragging her behind him. He leaned
up against the wall, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled
slowly.
Dana studied him with concern, as his face appeared somewhat
'flushed'. "Are you gonna be all right?" she asked worriedly as she gently
stroked his cheek with the back of her hand.
Mulder opened his eyes and with a gravelly voice, croaked in
embarrassment, "Yeah, I'm fine.....I'll be just fine---I don't know....the
walls just seemed to 'close in'. I just need some air--that's all....just
some air," he said, his speech punctuated by deep breaths.

****
Continued in 2b

M&S---EP---Smoker for Scully---------------------------Queen of Angst

XAngst Anonymous "Please explain to me the
and Myth Patrol scientific nature of the Whammy."
Construction Site -- Scully, in "Pusher"

xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner

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

From xangst@frii.com Wed Oct 09 04:27:54 1996
Devil's Advocate, part 2 continued...

"You never told me that you were claustrophobic," she ventured
cautiously.
"I'm not," he said defensively. "At least I've never had a problem
with it before. It wasn't the 'space' exactly......"
Dana watched him deal with his frustration as he tried to fit
'words' to what he'd experienced. "It was more like---like the air was
'alive' with a 'heavy' malevolence. I felt a vague 'dread'. You know, the
kind you get when you walk into a dark building and ya know the perp is in
there---somewhere--watching, waiting, calculating the moment when he's
gonna blow your brains out...." Mulder trailed off, cocking his head to one
side. "We've left port," he said suddenly without preamble, " I don't know
how I know that, but I know it's a fact."
Dana eyed him closely and saw the same frightened look in his eyes
that she felt. He spoke with a audible tremor. "After all this
time.....have I finally lost it and taken a half-gainer off the deep end?"
Dana tried to smile and replied soothingly, "I'd say no.....people
who *are* crazy don't usually speculate on the state of their
sanity.....But there might be a totally rational explanation for all of
this. After all, you haven't eaten all morning and I'd say you're
probably just in the middle of a hypoglycemic 'funk'. Come on, there's a
brunch buffet on the Promenade deck. Let's get some food into you before
we go to that infernal meeting and I'll bet you'll feel a hundred percent
better." She lightly grasped his wrist and led him down the hall to the
elevator.
Buffet brunch was a serious understatement, Mulder thought as he
eyed the spread laid out on the Promenade deck. Jesus, he'd never seen so
much food in his life....table after table of every kind of 'brunch' food
known to the civilized world. Perhaps Dana was right. He *was* beginning
to feel much better and the incident in the cabin was becoming just a
distant unpleasant memory.
Mulder piled his plate up and sat down. Now *this* was definitely
*his* kind of assignment, he thought wickedly. He spread butter on his
french toast and then picked up the syrup and poured a heavy trail over the
toast, the edges of the maple lake threatening to overrun his scrambled
eggs and sausage. If that sound he heard in the background was his
arteries hardening, he decided to ignore it, at least for this trip.
Dana sat across from him with her bagel, fruit salad, and cup of
coffee. A look of amazement crossed her face as she watched him dive into
the mound of food on his plate.
"Mulder, I don't think it's a good idea to 'overindulge' right now."
"First you tell me to eat, then you tell me *not* to eat....which
is it?" he asked in irritable confusion, stabbing a piece of sausage with
his fork.
"You've never been on a large ship in the middle of the ocean, have
you?"
"No......" he replied with exasperation, "I told you I've never
done this before."
Dana proceeded carefully. "Well, sometimes it can get a little
'rough' once the ship hits open water and a 'full' stomach is not always
advisable."
"Wonderful." He stared at his remaining repast hungrily. "Food,
food, everywhere....and not a bite to eat," he purposely misquoted. He
looked over Dana's shoulder, then mumbled quietly, "try not to be too
obvious but suspect number two is standing at the far table, juggling two
plates and scurrying to a seat about four tables away."
Dana dropped her napkin on the floor, and turned partly around in
her chair to retrieve it. As she did, she casually glanced up to see a
middle-aged man with slightly graying hair poking out from beneath a white
Panama hat. He had on white shoes and wore a bright Hawaiian shirt
underneath a white linen suit that looked two sizes too big, except of
course, for the slight paunch that hung over his belt. "Him?" she asked
raising an unbelieving eyebrow. "Oh great....first it's Grandma Moses,
now.....it's the 'Good Humor Man'. Mulder, I think you're really reaching
on this one."
"Could be," Mulder agreed, "then again....who knows. The 'Good
Humor Man' is Karl Kopec, lead snooper for the National Inquisitor. Karl
is the mastermind responsible for such 'riveting' headlines as 'Siamese
Twin Murders Brother and Claims it was Suicide', and 'Chinese Dwarf Gives
Birth to Gorilla Baby'. Truly 'stimulating' journalism don't you think?
Karl's chasing the 'big story'. The Inquisitor has offered a $10,000
reward to anyone who can prove 'life after death' and Karl plans to
collect. Combine that with the reward that the cruise line is offering,
solving this mystery would probably be the biggest payday he's ever had."
Mulder turned away from Karl and focused his attention on a man who
just walked into the room. "Now *he* could be a real problem," Mulder
stated as he directed Dana's gaze to a marginally overweight, gray-haired
man wearing a bad suit and cheap shoes. He sported a five o' clock shadow
and the way he chewed his mouthful of gum reminded her of the billy goat on
her cousin's farm in Wisconsin.
"Why is *he* a problem?" she wondered out loud.
"Because he's an NYPD police detective who wanted this case,"
Mulder replied.
"New York? Isn't a cruise in Miami just a little bit out of his
jurisdiction?" Dana asked.
"Yeah, well he's 55 years old and wants to make a name for himself
before he retires. Personally, I think he wants to be the next Joseph
Wambaugh." Mulder paused as the cop passed their table carrying his brunch
plate and a cup of coffee. Mulder barely stifled a chuckle when he saw
what was on the cop's plate....danish and a doughnut. Talk about
perpetuating a stereotype! When the cop was safely out of earshot, Mulder
continued with his briefing on the guy. "His request was denied when the
FBI was contacted so he knows the Bureau sent somebody---he doesn't know
who and I for one would just as soon keep it that way. His name is Jake
Moorehouse. The first cruise he took was a 'gift' from his buddies at
work to help him 'celebrate' his pending retirement.
So far he's been unable to prevent the murders or apprehend the criminal or
criminals and he really resents the FBI being anywhere near this case."
So what else is new, Dana thought to herself. By and large, local
cops were not happy when the FBI was assigned to one of "their" cases. But
a cop as a suspect, that puzzled her. "Mulder, if he's a cop, why would he
be a suspect?" she asked.
"Yeah, I know---it does sound a little lame," Mulder admitted.
"Maybe he just wanted to go out with a bang. Unfortunately, 'heroes' get
more talk show gigs and book rights than just normal every day, run of the
mill, retired cops."
They got up from the table. Mulder took one last, longing, look
at the remaining food on his plate before he headed for the door and the
rather large conference area across from the Promenade Dining Room.
"Good God Mulder," Dana whispered, "I've never seen so many 'odd'
people in one place before. It looks like what I might picture the Mulder
family reunion to resemble....."
"Oh.. so now you're picking on *my* family again, huh?" Mulder
looked down at her with a glint in his eye. This one was just too good to
pass up. "May I remind you," he began in a teasing tone, " that *your*
family is the one that could set up a 900 number for 'psychic friends'."
His voice lost it's teasing quality....suddenly he didn't feel so well.
"Come to think of it, way don't you call up Melissa and have her 'channel'
me some Rolaids... my stomach seems to have a life of its own....somehow
it's traveled into my throat and I can't seem to coax it back down to
where it belongs." He felt dizzy, hot, and extremely nauseous.
"Mulder, *sit* down," she ordered, "sit down before you fall down."
Lord, he looked awful. All the blood drained from his face as beads of
perspiration rolled down his cheek. "I told you not to eat all that stuff,"
she reminded him. "Do you think you can hold on to it until this meeting
is over???"
"You mean....do I think I can keep from tossing my cookies all over
your brand new shoes???? Believe me, I'll give it my best shot, but I'm
not promising anything."
Geez, he actually *did* look ....green....It's a good thing there
weren't any self respecting aliens around to see *this*. "Okay, I spotted
Mrs. O'Keefe, Mr. Kopec, and Sgt. Moorehouse. That leaves two suspects
unaccounted for.."
"Actually....two suspects---three people," he corrected.
"What?"
"Well, I counted the Boltons as one suspect."
"Why on earth would you do that?" she inquired....this she had to
hear...sometime his logic was just a tad difficult to follow.
"They're married," he stated and acted as if no further explanation
was necessary.
"So what? They're still two different people."
"Yeah, but how could one of them *murder* people and not have the
other one know about it.... I mean I couldn't keep something like that from
*you*---and we're not even married."
"I swear, Mulder, sometimes you're sooo naive. Read my lips. Not
everyone is like *us.* Not all couples talk, argue and care enough about
each other to tell one another the truth on any given subject. Not all
couples love each other either...."
"All right...I guess I screwed up on that one." Mulder said,
admitting defeat one more time. Geez, it was hard to win with this woman.
She reached over and ran her fingers through his hair. "That's
okay....we'll let it slide this time." Dana looked away from Mulder as two
people entered from the dining room. They wore matching jogging
suits.....very expensive matching jogging suits, and it was obvious they
had just finished what was probably their morning run. "Don't tell
me....the Boltons, right?"
Mulder nodded. "Todd and Kelly Bolton, middle thirties. He's an
associate with a high powered Wall Street law firm, based in their Atlanta
office. Handles stock transfers, buyouts, mergers...."
"A corporate raider...lovely," Dana muttered under her breath.
"She's in real estate...handles only high six and seven figure
properties. No kids, but a nice little estate on the outskirts of
Atlanta."
"So what are they doing on this cruise?" Dana asked. "Surely they
don't need the money."
"No....just the movie rights. Rumor is that Todd got wind of a
small production company that's for sale in Burbank. He probably thinks
that if he can solve this 'crime; he could swing a deal to purchase the
company and produce a movie of his adventures, thereby getting his foot in
the door of the entertainment business. And I'm sure Kelly has dollar
signs floating in her eyes just dreaming about the house she could sell to
Roseanne out in sunny California."
Dana and Mulder fell silent as the Boltons passed them carrying
their plates. Each had an identical cup of tea...herbal, no doubt...a small
fruit salad and a muffin. Dana caught snatches of their conversation as
they floated by. It seemed to consist entirely of what their lawn man was
doing to rid their estate of some persistent pests, and how badly the
repair shop had messed up the leather interior on her BMW. She watched
them closely...both had identical light brown hair, steel blue eyes....and
she noticed with some amusement that they finished each other 's sentences,
seemingly without a break in the conversation. Maybe Mulder was
right...two people, one suspect.
"So who's the third missing person?"
"She's a psychic witch," he said as a wistful smile played across
his lips.
"A what?" she smirked. This better not be another jibe at Melissa,
not if he knew what was good for him.
"Okay--her name is Oneida Darkhorse...Psychic Advisor to the Stars
and self-proclaimed high priestess of the 'dark' arts. Quite a title, huh?
" Dana's look said that she didn't buy it, not in the least. "Her father
is supposedly descended from Mayan kings---her mother a full-blooded Red
Hand Souix. She was born and raised in Brazil." He stopped and pointed at
the door. "Well, what do you know. Here she is now. Maybe she 'knew' we
were talking about her."
As if on cue, a tall, lithe, young woman glided into their midst.
Conversations ceased and heads turned in unison as she slithered into her
seat at the far corner of the room. Dana hated to admit it, but the woman
was exquisite. Her gleaming raven hair hung straight and sure below her
tiny waist and her face held the proud features of her Native American
heritage; the flawless, tawny skin, high cheekbones, and full, red lips.
But the most intriguing feature was--her eyes--they were an incongruous
cool, icy, blue that seemed to look right through you and see into your
soul.
Dana also noticed something else.... the woman's affect on the male
population in the room was equally --intriguing. She glanced up at her
partner and discovered, much to her annoyance, that he too was not immune
to the woman's obvious sensual appeal. The stupid grin on his face
attested to that fact. She nudged him forcefully in the side to bring him
back from whatever fantasy his fertile imagination had been entertaining
and he fumbled awkwardly in an attempt to recover his composure. Finally,
he just shrugged his shoulders and commented sheepishly, "Well, there's
nothing wrong with 'looking', is there?"
"Mulder, that was *not* 'looking', that was just pure...'gawking'.
How would you like it if I looked at another man that way?"
He looked down at her and smiled guiltily. "I didn't mean to," he
whispered with child-like innocence.
However, his assurances to the contrary, Mulder began to notice an
intense desire for the beautifully exotic woman rise within him......wait a
minute, he argued with himself. This was *not* what *he* wanted. The only
woman he *wanted* to arouse him was the one standing beside him. He shook
his head quickly from side to side, trying to clear it. What the hell was
going on here, he asked himself in a growing panic--first the episode in
the cabin and now....this? Mulder reached over and pulled Dana in front of
himself almost like a shield. Dana was surprised at his sudden action,
looked up and followed his gaze across the room to find that Oneida had
singled him out with her penetrating, icy, stare. Dana looked back and
forth between the two with a growing concern. Something was going on here
besides mere gawking.
Fox Mulder reeled with the erotic imagery that bombarded his
mind...crazed, steamy visions of Oneida that he knew didn't originate in
his own head. He felt the dizziness and intense nausea slam into him once
again with renewed vengeance. Scully turned just in time to see him sway
unsteadily and crash to the floor.
Across the room Oneida smiled, then turned her attention away from
the crowd that had gathered around the couple. Brunch, that sounded good
to her. Maybe she'd get something to eat. Using her 'talents' always did
give her an appetite.

(continued part 3)

M&S---EP---Smoker for Scully---------------------------Queen of Angst

XAngst Anonymous "Please explain to me the
and Myth Patrol scientific nature of the Whammy."
Construction Site -- Scully, in "Pusher"

xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner

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