BODY OF EVIDENCE
Headers and disclaimers can be found in Part 1 and now... 
on with the story

PART VII

Captain William Mulder, known by his company as The Fox, 
dismounted from his sable coloured horse and led it down 
to the cool green canopy of trees the lined the brook.

He'd spent all morning on the hunt for a murderer, a 
convict who had killed and horribly mutilated a guard. 
Mulder had combed his sector thoroughly, but there was no 
evidence to be had that the escapee had even come this 
way.

His assignment had been a waste of time and he had told 
his colonel that, but the man would not be persuaded to 
let him back performing his other duties.

As Mulder drew closer to the water he heard a splash that 
was too loud to be caused by anything other than a 
person.

Swiftly tying his mount to a tree, he unclipped his 
pistol from his belt. He also felt for his dagger.

Moving stealthily towards the sound, keeping to the 
shrubs and overhanding branches, he approached the pool.

To his surprise a naked woman glided through the water, 
her silky blonde hair shimmered like a gold thread in the 
wake behind her. 

It was the governor's mistress, a woman who had been sent 
to the colonies as a harlot and who had now parlayed her 
skills into a comfortable life. 

He envied the governor.

He sensed that she noticed his presence and was 
continuing her display for his benefit. He put his pistol 
back in its holster.

"What are you doing here," asked the voice behind him 
coolly.

Mulder reacted but not quickly enough. The petite flame 
haired woman on her own was no match for his size and 
strength but the small pistol aimed at his chest equalled 
the odds.

"I could say I was enjoying the view but I fear that 
would earn me a musket ball to the shoulder... or some 
other place," he replied.

There was a slight twitch of amusement in her lips but 
the woman straightened the pistol to let him know that 
she had not let her guard down.

"It is your good fortune that your fears are unfounded. 
For today at least," she replied. "What brings you here 
captain?"

His amusement evaporated.

"A convict has escaped and a detachment has been sent to 
hunt him down," he spoke gravely. "He is considered 
violent."

He watched as the woman absorbed the information. It 
seems she too had not been long out of the water. She was 
dressed in a plain cream cotton shift that matched the 
complexion of her skin. The opening dipped across her 
breasts. Where the wet ends of her hair met the fabric 
was transparent.

Her soft skin was not reddened or weather-beaten as other 
female convicts who had been assigned fieldwork. She 
appeared to have been chosen to serve as part of the 
governor's domestic staff. 

"Has there been a sighting near here?" she asked.

Mulder shook his head. "There has not but it is likely 
that he will be on the move."

Weighing the risks, the woman nodded her head.

"Then you should escort us back to the compound," she 
replied.

He nodded, mentally applauding her judgement and the 
calmness with which she assessed the situation.

"Katie? Katie, who is this man?" It was the mistress who 
was now more or less clothed who joined them. Her fussy 
apple green dress was slashed dangerously low across her 
decollete.

"Mistress, this is Captain..." She raised her eyebrows to 
the man.

"Captain Mulder, mistress, at your service."

Rebecca smile coquettishly, she liked the look of the 
officer.

"He has come to escort us back," Katie answered. 
"Apparently there is an escaped convict."

The blonde pouted. "I am sure we are perfectly safe 
here."

"Be that as it may, it would be wiser to return now."

The woman shrugged. It was useless to argue with Katie 
when she had made up her mind. She turned her attention 
to the captain.

"Will you help me mount?" she appealed, stroking her hand 
along his arm.

Her nipples were hard against his arm and the gentle 
rocking motion was arousing him further when Mulder 
awoke.

He savoured the sensation a few moments as sleep and the 
memory of the dream receded. 

Opening his eyes, he familiarised himself with his 
location - a double bed, his arm across Scully's T-shirt-
clad chest, a morning erection that was more substantial 
than usual at her back.

'No good, this is no good', Mulder thought to himself as 
he slipped out of bed hurriedly, watching his partner for 
signs of wakefulness. 

This is what he wanted to avoid, one more chink in 
armour, another breach in the wall that kept he and 
Scully separate, necessarily apart.

Mulder walked to the shower.




The Police Station
Norfolk Island
November 4
9.05am

"You look like shit," said Porter amiably as he watched 
Mulder rub darkened eyes. He walked to the coffee 
percolator and poured his friend a generous amount of the 
black liquid.

Mulder sneered at the comment but accepted the coffee 
anyway. He snagged a file from the pile to his left and 
half-heartedly examined the notes from the interview 
conducted with Rob Davenport, Wendy's last boyfriend.

He admitted that he and Wendy argued and the alibi for 
the night of the murder was not exactly watertight.

Rob had been seen drinking at the sports club until 10 
and he was seen driving towards home a little after 
10.30pm. He said he was so drunk he staggered into bed, 
alone and didn't awaken until Steve arrived to give him 
the news of Wendy's death.

"I want to talk to Rob again. He was never asked if he 
knew anything about Wendy's 'extracurricular' activities 
at Coral C - I'd like to know if he did," intoned Mulder, 
not looking up from the notes he was making.

"Sure. Did Becky shed any light? What's Dana's take on 
all this?"

Mulder looked up at the use of his partner's first name 
and considered the man in front of him.

"I saw you two in the garden last night." Porter answered 
the unasked question.

"Scully's back at the hospital this morning," Mulder 
shrugged ignoring the first part of the inquiry.

"She and the local doc are going back over Wendy's cause 
of death. Also she seems curious about the virus she 
found in the suspect DNA samples and in Wendy... and in 
you, apparently.

Mulder watched as Porter nodded, taking in the 
information. And then: "Any luck finding the girl?"

Porter straightened but kept his arms folded.

"Janine Gardener, 23, teachers's aid. Left for Sydney a 
week ago to finish her teaching degree. Clean criminal 
history, no known connection to Wendy," he responded 
swiftly.

Mulder didn't respond.

Porter sighed. "We still don't know what the virus is. I 
feel fine, the hospital hasn't reported any epidemic. 
Whatever this virus is, it's not an illness and there's 
no ongoing effects."

Mulder tapped the end of the pen on the desk and nodded 
slowly.

"Since you're feeling so good, you can drive."


Norfolk Base Hospital


Scully closed her eyes for a moment to give them a rest 
from the autopsy notes and photographs in front of her.

Despite running through the analysis from the mainland 
lab, she found herself drifted back to breakfast with 
Mulder.

Scully had seen Mulder in moods many times before. This 
morning over bacon and eggs she recognised classic Mulder 
mood number three: 'I know something that I don't want 
you to know'. 

That, of course, was opposed to the shit-eating grin of a 
mood number four: 'I know something you don't know and I 
can't wait to tell you'.

Mood number three was the prelude to the ditch, something 
which with Scully was depressingly familiar over the 
years. It usually resulted in him taking dangerous risks, 
putting himself and her, in danger.

Again, she could only guess what her partner was keeping 
from her. Certainly it was something to do with this 
woman, Summer, and his meeting at the TV station.

"Penny for your thoughts," a voice whispered softly at 
her ear.

Scully jumped and turned to the grinning face of Dr 
Schofield.

She took a deep breath and reflexively placed her hand on 
her chest, before indulging in a rueful half smile.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were that deep in 
thought," he laughed.

"No... I'm mean that's all right, I was just in a 
daydream, that's all."

It took Scully a moment to realise that Dr Schofield had 
a hold of her other hand and was rubbing it. She pulled 
it away and immediately felt the prickling that caused 
goosebumps across her arms and across to her belly 
subside somewhat.

"What were you thinking?" he asked lightly but his mood 
had sobered, matching Scully's as he watched her reach 
for Wendy's autopsy results.

"There was signs of strangulation before she was 
stabbed."

Silence reigned for a minute. The sounds of the air 
conditioning and the rattle of a passing trolley seemed 
unnaturally loud.

Dr Schofield frowned.

"The cause of death was blood loss from multiple stab 
wounds."

Scully nodded, "So the question is, why try to strangle 
her too?"

There was silence from her colleague. In a beat, Scully 
answered her own question.

"Because there was more than one person present at her 
death."

Dr Schofield's eyes widened further.

"You see, it makes sense," rushed Scully, no longer 
focussed on Schofield, her attention now on the mortuary 
photographs, a theory beginning to coalesce.

"There were at least two people present at her death. The 
strangulation marks were made pre-mortem because the 
bruising around the stab wounds suggests that there was 
blood circulating at the time she was cut.

"Also, despite the fact that there were a large number of 
burst blood vessels around the eyes there was no foaming 
around the mouth or fluid in the lungs consistent with 
death by asphyxiation."

Dr Schofield nodded, leafing through some of the pages of 
the report.

"It makes sense, but how does that bring you closer to 
the killer?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, but it means we have to change the profile 
and possibly examine additional motives for the killers," 
she suggested. 

"According to the AFP report, everyone was working under 
the assumption that it was just one perpetrator involved, 
most likely a man because Wendy was moved from the 
location where she was killed to where she was found at 
Cock Pit Falls.

"The whole investigation may need to be reframed."

"Dr Scully, I don't understand what that has to do with 
the virus mutations you were so interested in yesterday. 
I can't see a connection."

"I was primarily interested in those because I thought... 
we all thought, that Wendy's cause of death was straight 
forward - but the marks around the neck change things 
completely.

"There may not be a connection at all, although I've 
arranged for blood tests for someone who has been on the 
island recently who believes they may have been infected.

"What if the virus we've discovered is not benign and has 
some psychotropic effect over a period of time..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, do you have any idea how crazy that 
sounds?"

The incredulous tone from Schofield pulled Scully up 
short.  She blinked as she realised that this wasn't 
Mulder she was talking to, the man who encourages her 
crazy ideas when nothing else really makes sense.

She had borne witness to enough of Mulder's wild theories 
to not dismiss them lightly. 

Scully still had problems with *extreme* possibility, but 
exploring 'slightly out there' possibilities was 
beginning to suit her well.

Dr Schofield folded his arms. He was not convinced.

"I think it's a waste of time. The virus has no 
deleterious effect. How can it when no other symptoms 
have emerged and as you yourself noted, so many people 
appear to have it?"

"I don't know," conceded Scully. "But I have learned over 
the years as an investigator to not dismiss anything out 
of hand."

"Well... good luck with that I suppose." Schofield shook 
his head and moved to the door.

"Oh by the way, I came here to do this morning was to 
invite you, your partner and Jack to a party on Saturday. 
Locals and invited guests only."

He nodded his head toward a flyer on the bench, 
'Convicts And Colonials 
Saturday from 8.30pm to dawn
Food, drink, music and dancing under the stars
Costumes Available from Faerie Realm, Harbour Road'



The offices of Deep Blue Game Fishing Charters
Harbour Road
10.45am

The buzz and clack of the old wall mounted fan provided 
only a faint breath of relief from the morning sun 
heating the tin shed which housed Rob Davenport's fishing 
charter business.

Mulder had abandoned the suit but couldn't quite bring 
himself to follow Jack's lead and wear a polo neck shirt 
while on duty. Mulder's concession to the warm, sub-
tropical spring day was to wear a business shirt without 
the tie and with sleeves rolled to the elbows.

Davenport was dressed more casually still, a pair of dark 
blue board shorts and a patterned singlet were filled out 
by his surfer's physique. He was a handsome man in a 
rugged outdoors way, deeply tanned with sun bleached 
hair. He was also full of pent-up energy, Mulder noticed. 
He had difficulty remaining still in his seat, bouncing 
his left leg at a jackhammer pace on the cement floor. 

Conscious of the poor presentation he was making he took 
a deep breath, stilled his leg and turned to Mulder.

"I don't know what I can tell you that I already haven't 
told him and the other one," said Davenport, nodding to 
Porter. He sighed and closed his eyes, rattling off the 
answers to the questions he'd been asked a dozen times or 
more in the past six weeks.

"Yes, Wendy and I were together on the night she was 
murdered. But I left her about 7.30pm. No, she didn't 
come back to the house. No, I didn't go after her. Yes, I 
went to the sports club. Yes, I got shit-faced drunk. Yes 
we always argued about my bitch daughter. Yes, I also 
yelled with my daughter that night. No, I did not murder 
Wendy. I heard about her death the same time everyone 
else did."

Davenport opened his eyes and looked directly at Mulder. 

"Anything else you want to know?"

The intensity of the stare was matched. Mulder didn't 
speak immediately, allowing a good few seconds to pass, 
noting with some satisfaction that Davenport's bravado 
wavered some before he broke off eye contact.

"What do you know about what happens at the Coral C?" 
Mulder asked softly.

The question was unexpected. Davenport frowned.

"They make documentaries, Shaun and Clover McKenzie 
occasionally charter my boat for some of their 
documentaries. You know, underwater footage of coral, 
sharks, dolphins, turtles."

"Wendy accompany the crew on these trips?"

"Not really, maybe occasionally, she had a job of her own 
you know."

"Did she ever tell you that she wanted to get back into 
acting?"

"Acting? Like Hollywood?" Davenport shook his head in 
disbelief. "Wendy's never been an actress."

Mulder tapped his case file.

"No, not like Hollywood, I suppose, but before she left 
the US she did spend a few months working as an actress."

Davenport leaned back on his chair and folded his arms, 
looking more confident than at any other time during the 
interview.

"That's crazy. If she wanted to be an actress, she didn't 
say nothing to me about it. Anyway, why would anyone come 
to Norfolk Island to be actress?"


****

"Well it tells me that people are very good at keeping 
secrets from one another on this island," said Mulder as 
he and Jack reached the car.

"It seems everyone involved in the McKenzies' second line 
of business has kept their mouths shut about it."

Porter adjusted his sunglasses and put the car into gear.

"I find it hard to believe that no one knows what's going 
on there considering how sexually charged this place is," 
he mused.

"Obviously the talent is being paid well enough to keep 
it a secret and the titles don't seem to be finding their 
way back to this part of the southern hemisphere from 
what we know - most porn in Australia is either home 
grown or imported from the US or Europe. 

"Like I told you, Norfolk Island has never cropped up on 
the radar as skinflick central. 

"The only thing I can think of is the final editing and 
distribution is being done elsewhere and the island is 
simply a location. Raw footage could easily make it back 
to either Australia or New Zealand on the international 
flights."

"Made even easier if you already have customs clearance, 
thanks to an insider," agreed Mulder.

"Which brings us back to exactly where we started," 
Porter sighed.

"One victim, an island full of suspects, multiple motives 
and nothing to tie anyone to the crime. There has to be a 
motive we're not seeing. I want to contact Sydney and get 
more information on vice rings.

"We also have the chance to observe everyone more or less 
in the one place at Saturday's Convicts and Colonials 
party. It will be interesting to see who spends time with 
who."

Mulder tongued a sunflower seed and stared at the passing 
scenery. 

"Suspects who hide in plain sight... Hey Jack, after the 
interview with Rabs, drop me at the Coral C, I want to 
see if I can talk my way into getting a hold of some of 
the McKenzies' coming attractions."

Porter glanced at him and chuckled. "Purely for official 
business, of course."

"If they're any good I might buy shares," Mulder grinned.



Deep Blue Fishing Charters
12.15pm

"Calm down Rob," demanded Sylvie.

"No I won't fucking calm down, we're supposed to be in 
this together and I have to hear from some Yank cop that 
Wendy was... doing God knows what with you and the others 
at the Coral C," Davenport dragged the phone's extension 
cord around the boat shed.

"I mean it's one thing if you and she want to do that 
kind of shit but to film it? My God, you're sick woman 
Sylvie."

Anger spread down the phone line. Sylvie collected her 
thoughts and her temper.

"Look, I had no idea she was going to have such a violent 
reaction - that's never happened before. All the other 
times it was fine. I've told you before I thought she was 
dead after the convulsions."

"I want a meeting with the others. I want something done 
about the Americans and Jack Porter. Now dammit!"

Davenport slammed the receiver and rubbed his face 
willing himself to calm down in order to face the 
afternoon charter passengers who had just arrived.


End of part VII



PART VIII

Emily Bay
2.35pm

Emily Bay was the safest of Norfolk Island's beaches. 

Originally Turtle Bay but renamed for the Governor's 
wife, the inlet was almost circular in shape and 
protected from large ocean waves by a rocky reef that 
stretched along this side of the island. It  had been 
regularly used since settlement. And today Scully had it 
all to herself.

She had re-read the tourist literature. Until the early 
20th century the bay's primary purpose was to supply 
seawater for the salt distillation - an operation vital 
for curing and preserving meat. 

The disused structure lay 400 yards from the nearest 
convict ruins in the village of Kingston, Norfolk 
Island's original settlement and officially its capital. 
The Governor's House built in the Regency style of the 
1820s, had been magnificently restored and worked as the 
island's seat of Government. 

Despite the hard work of the islanders and Australian 
Federal Government's funding for restoration projects, 
only a quarter of the original buildings had been 
restored, such as the original customs house, now museum 
and the doctor's house, which had been converted into 
golf club.

Most of the other buildings, including the jail and the 
soldiers' barracks, which lined the waterfront next to 
Emily Bay, were mere sandstone shells.

Scully felt a twinge of guilt as she lay her towel on the 
sand and furtively glanced back up the road to the ruins 
of Kingston and Governor's House beyond.

There was still a good three hours of day light in which 
she could research infectious agents, sexually 
transmitted viruses and Wendy's medical history but here 
she was, in a turquoise bikini, an impulse purchase from 
one of Burnt Pine's stores, walking towards to the clear 
blue water.

Scully needed time to think through her viral infection 
theory and try and make sense of what appeared to be a 
mutation. She also needed to get away from Dr Schofield. 
There was something about him she didn't like. 

He was professional and courteous but whenever he stood 
close, her investigator's instinct started sparking on a 
subconscious level. 

Although not particularly tall, he did have a strong 
physical bearing. Perhaps that was it. Although well 
trained, Scully knew that being unarmed against a man 
several inches taller and a few stone heavier put her at 
a disadvantage.

She thought about all the other times she's been put at a 
disadvantage and had to rely on her partner for help. 
That brought her thoughts full circle. Walking towards 
the clear blue water she willed herself not to think of 
Mulder at all.

Scully's stomach clenched as the cool water reached her 
midriff. From there she took long, powerful strokes 
towards the pontoon anchored in the middle of the bay.

Mike watched her, hidden the shadow of the trees that 
stood a few metres away from the waterline. Dana Scully 
was magnificent, more so than her conservative work 
clothing would suggest. She was well-toned but with the 
physique of a woman, not a girl. He revelled for a moment 
in the throbbing arousal she stirred in him.

He had received a call from Sylvie. It was time to call a 
meeting. Rob was getting twitchy after being interviewed 
by Agent Mulder and his questions about Coral C. And he 
wasn't happy to learn about Agent Scully's mutating virus 
theories either.

While it started to explain a lot of things about Wendy's 
death, they were disturbing on a number of different 
levels and everyone had the right to know what they were 
up against. 

Something had to be done about Porter, Mulder and Scully 
soon. 

After one last look at the woman swimming towards the 
pontoon, Mike returned to his car and drove back to town. 
Murray had called some favours in, sources who were only 
too happy to share the gossip about the FBI agents and 
their run ins with authority and their lukewarm 
reputation within the Bureau.


*****

Her stomach knotted as she watched them lean intimately 
into one another, their hands clasped. She turned away 
from the door and walked swiftly down the hallway knowing 
that she had not been seen.

She had news to tell Mulder. Important information he had 
been seeking but then this woman came giving him words he 
wanted to hear and it had turned his head. 

Impatiently she brushed the tears and ran a tired hand 
through her red hair. Twin frissions of shame and fear overwhelmed 
her. 

Embarrassment that she had allowed her growing feelings 
of attraction towards him turn to jealousy, humiliation 
that she felt intimidated in the presence of his 
'chickadee'.

Katie exited the side door and stopped, resting her cheek 
against the smooth stone of the Governor's House.

A small boy about the age of 12 emerged from the gloom of 
a late afternoon drizzle.

"You there," she called. "I need you to run an errand."

The boy nodded and held out his hand; profiteering 
techniques were learned early in the colony. He was 
rewarded with a coin.

"Do you know Captain Mulder?"

Again the boy nodded.

"Tell him Katherine has important news and she wishes to 
meet him at Bloody Bridge at his earliest convenience. Be 
discreet."

She ignored his knowing leer and watched him enter the 
building. She turned to run towards the stone bridge that 
lay to the east of the settlement.

The drizzle turned into rain and Katie sheltered under 
one of the bridge's supporting arches. She was soaked 
through. Shivering slightly, she clutched her grey 
woollen shawl around her tightly and closed her eyes.

She opened them again with a start. The late afternoon 
had turned into early evening. William placed a hand on 
her arm and rubbed it, bring warmth with his touch.

"It's not wise that we're seen together Katie." 

He looked at her tenderly and Katie swallowed the desire 
to touch the face and caress the lips that were near 
hers. Reading her eyes, he obliged by moving his body 
against hers, whispering in her ear, "We are being 
watched."

She allowed herself to be completely aware of him as a 
man. Her nipples hardened and arousal settled at her 
core. She put her arms around his back and felt evidence 
of his attraction to her.

"So we should make this assignation look convincing," he 
said kissing her neck. "Talk to me Katie, why am I here?"

Katie swallowed and collected her thoughts.

"I've overheard that the man you've been seeking has a 
hideout, a cave somewhere in the peak. They say it is 
hard to find without help."

William pulled back slightly and frowned at her. "Who 
told you this?"

"As I said, I overheard it. I was cleaning the anteroom 
Colonel Spender's quarters when he and his sergeant 
entered," Katie's voice was swift and urgent. "They 
didn't know I was there.

"They're planning a mutiny against the governor. Spender 
arranged for Hawkins' escape to allow him time to win 
over some of the worst brigands. I think other officers 
are involved too. That's why the patrols come back with 
nothing, some of them have been meeting in secret."

William looked at her thoughtfully and saw her 
earnestness.

"Why have you not gone to the governor yourself?"

"I would but for his mistress - she's been keeping 
company with Spender too."

The hands which had warmed her a second ago gripped tight 
and pulled her out of the embrace.

"No. That cannot be true."

Katie ignored the pins and needles now coursing to her 
fingers and looked at him directly, her voice firm.

"I saw her myself today Captain, leaving his chambers 
before dawn."

William released her swiftly, shoving her against the 
wall. 

"I don't believe it Katie, I know this woman."

"Be that as it may, but she has been keeping secrets from 
you."

He stepped back out from the shelter of the arch, away 
from her. "Jealousy has affected your judgement." 

Kate's cheeks flamed as she followed him out into the 
rain. She called to his retreating back.

"It comes down to a matter of trust, I guess it always 
has."


******

Coin-sized drops of cold water landed on Scully's back 
bringing her out of a dream.

"You'll burn," advised Porter. "The sun's more fierce 
here."

Scully mustered the energy to open her eyes and found 
herself looking into a pair of intense blue ones. Jack 
was treading water, resting one arm effortlessly on the 
edge of the pontoon.

"I don't care," Scully murmured. "Especially considering 
where I spent the summer."

Porter looked for an explanation. Despite the 80-degree 
temperature Scully shivered momentarily shaking off the 
memory of Antarctic snow and cryo chambers.

"Doesn't matter - long story," she dismissed.

To her relief Porter too seemed happy to leave it at 
that.

"Where's Mulder?" 

This time Scully was fully awake. She shifted to sit 
upright and enjoyed the contrast of warm sun at her back 
and the cool water as her legs dangled in the water. Jack 
pulled himself up joined her on the edge of the pontoon. 

Scully found herself watching the water drops fall from 
his shoulders, down his chest and shimmer briefly off his 
black Speedos but quickly pulled her attention back up 
when Porter spoke.

"We finished interviewing Davenport, his daughter and 
Warren. We didn't turn up anything new.

"Mulder was going to review case notes again and get a 
start on the report."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "That's got to be a first," she 
smirked.

"This case must really be bugging him, Mulder's not one 
for volunteering to the do the paperwork."

Silence sat between them comfortably for several minutes.

"What was Mulder like in college?"

Jack tried to study her mood; Scully didn't give much 
away. She turned her slightly pink face out to sea.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Mulder and I have been partners for six years, there are 
times I feel like I know him better than I know myself. 
Other times, he's a complete stranger to me.

"And this is one of those times?"

Scully didn't answer directly.

"Mulder's always been passionate, brooding, intense, 
brilliant... especially about his work but I wondered 
whether there was a time in his life where he... I don't 
know... had any joy in his life."

Porter answered her question as honestly as he could.

"Joy? Impossible to say."

Scully turned to him, her face serious.

"Oh, don't misunderstand me, Mulder and I had fun, a lot 
of laughs - but joy is another creature altogether. Joy 
is self-determined.

"I do know his parents' divorce and his sister's 
disappearance cut deep, though."

"How?"

"Because he never talked about it to anyone."

Scully nodded and turned contemplate the hypnotically 
rhythmic roll of the small waves churning white over the 
coral breakwater.

"Can I ask you a question?" Porter asked gently.

"Hmmm?" Scully turned towards him.

He leaned in for a breath of a kiss. Scully didn't pull 
away. Emboldened Porter intensified the contact, moving 
softly, sweetly over her salt tinged lips.

Tentatively she returned the kiss, savouring the 
sensation, opening her mouth to his. Trembling awareness 
of him travelled across her body and sank lower.

She was slightly breathless as the kiss ended.

"What did you want to ask?" she breathed.

"You've told me everything I needed to know."


End of part VIII

PART XI

Bloody Bridge Road
5.15pm

The shock of foot meeting pavement was a pleasurable, 
primal feeling for Mulder. It was strong, regular and 
tangible. He could concentrate on his heart rate and 
breathing.

It was one of the few times he could exist without 
thinking. Not even sleep could give him that kind of 
release. 

It was an apt metaphor for his life really. Just keep on 
running - either towards the truth or away from those who 
want to end that search.

His dreams were becoming more vivid and when they turn 
into fantasies of his partner doing wonderful, 
unspeakable things to him, it's time to run, put some 
distance between them that makes their professional 
partnership one of the longest running and most 
successful in the Bureau.

It also didn't help that he'd just watched 12 of the 15 
videotapes from Coral C.

Each smack of shoe on tarmac was an admonishment. 

Save the sex for the anonymous models in his videos and 
magazines. Save the sex for Diana because it was easy, 
safe. Scully was not easy and not safe - his quest, their 
work were not easy, not safe.

He wanted Scully, all of Scully - the investigator, the 
doctor, the skeptic, the friend, the woman, the lover - 
but he wanted too much. He tamped down those feelings.

As Mulder followed the curve of the road and its slight 
incline, he felt a light shove on his right shoulder.

"You're it," Becky called before putting on an extra 
spurt of speed to move ahead of him.

She turned her pony-tailed head to see if he was trying 
to catch up. He wasn't, he kept his pace while frowning 
curiously, so she laughed at him.

"C'mon old man!"

That stirred Mulder's competitive drive and he added to 
his pace. This was a race.

Becky laughed in delight as she found Mulder catching up 
to her with each of his long athletic strides. She veered 
off the road, climbing a grassy knoll off to the left of 
the pavement.

Her unexpected detour took Mulder by surprise for a 
moment, but rapidly he had matched her direction. Becky 
had cleared the top of the rise as Mulder reached it.  He 
stopped.

"What the hell are you doing?" he yelled.

"Catch me," she called back.

Mulder shook his head and against his better judgement, 
headed down the grass towards the line of trees that 
followed the line of a creek.

He followed after her at full throttle. Just as his lungs 
were about to burst he caught up with her.

Becky stumbled on the uneven grass. Mulder dropped to her 
side concerned that she may have injured herself.

But the uneven breathing and the broken sounds were that 
of laughter bubbling to the surface.

"That felt great," she gasped as she rolled up on to her 
knees.

"You're a strange girl," Mulder puffed in response.

Before he knew it, her hands were on him and rubbing his 
shoulders underneath the sleeveless shirt he had worn to 
go jogging. The pins and needles started to radiate from 
where her fingers touched skin.

The constriction in his chest came on rapidly, 
exacerbated by the run.

"What are you doing?" he gasped.

"Shhhh, just relax Mulder."

Becky moved forward and kissed him softly full on the 
lips. He found himself unable to move. The kiss was 
light, Mulder exhaled, unaware that he'd been holding his 
breath.

She brought both hands to his face and kissed him more 
fully, her tongue slid between his teeth and roughly 
explored his mouth.

She felt him stiffen as he tried to resist. She moved her 
hands to the hem of his shirt and ran her finger nails up 
the length of his bare chest.

He groaned as the sensation went straight to his cock. 
Becky pushed him on to his back and straddled him. 
Fingers then caressed the bulge in his shorts and she 
smiled knowingly.

"It's all right. I want you; you want me. There's nothing 
wrong with that Mulder," she kissed him on the temple.

"Fox." A roll of her tongue on his ear.

"Mulder." Another kiss on the lips.

Mulder was fully erect, aided by the heat he could feel 
between her legs.

"There is no right, no wrong," she went on as she removed 
her tank top. Becky went braless. 

"All that matters is how we feel. What are you feeling 
Mulder?"

Mulder felt intoxicated as she watched her fingers leave 
his chest and slowly work their way across her thighs, 
her belly and up to her breasts where her fingernails 
scored lightly over her nipples that budded rose.

He closed he eyes, mind and body at war. 

The conscious mind was losing the fight against the 
sharp, almost painful thrumming of his nerve endings that 
seemed to cover him from head to foot and the tightness 
in his chest that refused to allow him enough oxygen to 
stop his head swimming.

Half-heartedly straining away from her but hands he had 
intended to use to shove her away from him were rising 
higher on her thigh.

Becky sighed her approval and rubbed herself against his 
crotch.

"Look at me Mulder," demanded Becky. Mulder responded, 
his eyes unfocussed she leaned forward, placing her 
breasts in front of his lips. Mulder reacted 
automatically licking and sucking each breast in turn.

He was only dimly aware that she'd pulled his shorts and 
hers down to the knee. And in one swift moment she had 
impaled him.

"Oh God...Scully...," he pleaded.

Becky tightened herself around him and rocked her hips. 
Mulder was cut adrift, unable to fight the current of 
pleasure in which each synapse fired simultaneously.

Instinct took over and so did his natural aggression. 
Hands rubbed determinedly across the bare skin of her 
back before reaching her shoulders. Mulder shoved her 
back, concentrating the sensation around his cock.

Becky's eyes sparkled with lust as well as satisfaction 
as she observed how aroused her lover had become. She 
felt his hands scrape down her chest and settle between 
her legs. Dear God the man was magnificent, she reflected 
as each flick of her clit brought her closer to her own 
orgasm.

She rode him harder and wasn't surprised that it was his 
partner's name the man cried out in climax.



 
When Mulder was a boy, he wanted to be an astronaut and 
feel zero gravity for himself. 

He would work hard to swing as high as he could on the 
park swing and as soon as he reached the apex of the arc 
he would let go of the chain and begin to feel himself 
float for a millisecond or two before gravity exerted its 
rightful influence.

It was the same now, except the free fall seemed longer. 

After gulping down several deep breaths Mulder willed his 
head to stop spinning. For a second he wondered whether 
he'd fallen off the swing and had winded himself, as he 
sometimes had done as a kid.

Awareness came swiftly. 

He had been jogging. 

There was Becky, there was Scully, there was....  oh 
fuck.


*******

Bligh's Steak and Seafood Restaurant
7.52pm

Porter spotted the tension between them immediately. None 
of the easy camaraderie or casual affection he'd observed 
earlier in the week was evident.

Scully sat straight and stiff in her chair and making a 
show of looking through the window at the night sky. 
Mulder's shoulders slumped and appeared to find the 
tablecloth thread count fascinating.

Yeah, he thought. This is going to be fun. Porter 
plastered a goofy grin on his face and approached the 
table.

"Sorry I'm late, who died?"

Mulder and Scully started at him blankly. Mulder was the 
first to recover.

"No new victim, just a long frustrating day," he said. 
Scully nodded in agreement. 

A quip about Mulder's afternoon research hovered around 
Porter's lips and died. He decided to leave the matter at 
that, especially as he had news of his own.

"We've discovered the identity of one of Millard's co-
stars. It's Rebecca White. I got off the phone to the 
vice squad on the mainland. They made the ID this 
afternoon"

"Steve Thompson's girlfriend?" asked Scully 
incredulously.

Porter nodded, keeping his eyes on Mulder.

She absorbed the information and started to speculate out 
loud.

"Coral C produces pornographic movies? Well, that's a new 
lead to investigate right there. We could be wrong about 
the perp being a local. What if it was organised crime?

"Someone could slip in and out relatively easily. They 
don't even need to fly in. They could have charted a 
boat, stage the crime to give us conflicting evidence, 
sail on to New Caledonia, Vanuatu or Fiji. Maybe even 
back to Australia, up to Cairns and fly from an 
international air..."

Scully stopped when she realised that no one was 
brainstorming with her. "What the hell's going on?"

"I've already checked out that connection," answered 
Mulder quietly. "The murderer is definitely someone on 
the island."

He faced his partner.

"I became aware of Becky's moonlighting yesterday."

Scully chuffed and folded her arms.

"Let me guess. Her stage name is Summer."

Mulder nodded.

"I don't believe this," Scully quietly seethed. "Mulder, 
why didn't you tell me last night when I asked you?"

"Because she asked me in order to protect her boyfriend."

"You read the background - Thompson was one of Wendy's 
former lovers and then he learns that his girlfriend and 
his ex are making porn together..."

Mulder interrupted. "I'm fully convinced that the little 
blue movie racket has nothing to do with the reason why 
Wendy was killed."

"How can you say that?" Scully refused to hide her 
annoyance or frustration. "That her death was a crime of 
passion makes even more sense now."

Mulder gritted his teeth to keep his voice soft.

"Listen to yourself Scully, there's something else going 
on here. You uncovered the evidence of a sexually 
transmitted virus which is altering the DNA of people 
here on the island. You've told me that a further 
mutation may be taking place..."

"Mulder, Wendy was stabbed to death and possibly tortured 
before hand. She did not die from a virus and... and if 
there was immediate danger from the virus, why does Jack 
not show any ongoing reaction?"

"That's what you've got to find out because that's where 
the cover up begins. We don't know the effect that this 
virus has. Maybe that's why Wendy was so keen to get off 
the island.

"Her own boyfriend Scully, knew nothing of her 
moonlighting and he should still be a suspect, but not 
our only one. There is a conspiracy of silence here and a 
group of people who will do anything to cover it up."

Porter observed the exchange and wondered if this is how 
they handled all their cases. He decided to intervene.

"Then why the sloppy killing?" he asked.

Mulder took a deep breath and some of the radiating 
tension left him.

"I don't think they intended to murder Wendy. It just got 
out of hand."

Turning to back Scully he asked, "Please... you're on the 
right track with the virus, but we need to know what is 
causing the mutation and why it's emerging now."

His partner sat back in her chair, eyes still bright with 
anger.

"You lied to me Mulder."

"Yeah? Well, here's something else you're not going to 
like. You're going to have to test me for the same virus 
exposure as Jack."


Sylvie observed the two men and woman at the corner table 
and their quiet argument. She had to admit, their 
composure was remarkable. No one else in the restaurant 
had noticed anything amiss.

Sliding around the corner into a side office, Sylvie 
dialled a number on the cordless phone.

"Two down, one to go, Mike," she said. "Tell Becky she's 
done a good job on Agent Mulder. She's done a real mind-
fuck on him and his partner.

"None of them seem to have much of an appetite for 
dinner, they'll probably leave in 20 minutes. I'll see 
you all in half an hour."

End part IX




PART X

Norfolk Base Hospital
9.58pm

Asking extensive questions and taking notes, Scully was 
brutally thorough in her physical examination of her 
partner. 

Apart from blood pressure which was a little below normal 
and a slightly elevated temperature, Mulder showed no 
serious ill-effects from his encounter.

He had told them the whole story and Scully wanted to 
believe him, did believe him, and yet struggled with 
mind's eye images of Mulder and Becky together; of Mulder 
and Diana. She swallowed her feelings and mustered her 
concentration into professionalism.


She took a blood sample and insisted that Porter provide 
another sample for comparison.

"I guess the question is how well can we trust anyone on 
the island," stated Scully as she walked about the lab 
putting away a small privacy screen and setting up 
syringes, slides and a microscope. "I mean, how deep does 
this conspiracy go?

"Jack's just told us that Thommo has an alibi for the 
night of the murder. He was on a teleconference, 
Davenport has an alibi, albeit a shaky one..."

"Scully, you're starting from the position that there was 
a conspiracy to murder," interrupted Mulder, rebuttoning 
his shirt. "I just don't see that.

"The conspiracy is in the cover up and that could include 
people who were nowhere near the scene of the crime when 
it occurred."

Scully slapped a tray of equipment on the bench and 
turned to the two men.

"Well here are facts I think we can agree on," she 
sighed. 

"You and Jack have been exposed to a virus after sex with 
two women whom you claim left you in capacitated for a 
short time with all the hallmarks of anaphylactic shock. 
The same virus is in the body of Wendy Millar.

"I want those women brought in for questioning."

"And don't forget just about every virile man of the 
island Dana, they have the virus too."

Scully turned to Porter and gave him a look that had 
quailed many a man into submission. Mulder himself was 
only partially immune.

"But only two people have used it as a weapon. These 
women are key to this conspiracy."

"Well there's no question that we have to question Becky 
White," Porter glanced at Mulder. 

"I'll do it and we'll have to have Thommo there, there's 
no way we can keep him out of this now..."

"No. I'll question her," broke off Scully. "Attempts at 
harm, of a sort, have been made against the both of you 
during this investigation. I'm the only one who's not 
been compromised. 

"Besides," she paused. "Perhaps I'll get more information 
out of her talking woman-to-woman."

Scully received Porter's non-verbal assent and she turned 
to Mulder, who returned her directness with a curt nod.

"Janine isn't expected back to the island for quite 
sometime, so I'll give Murray Birch a call in the morning 
and tell him to find and question her," volunteered 
Porter.

Mulder saw the slight slump in the shoulders and the 
bruise-like darkness that settled her Scully's eyes and 
was about to comment on it when Porter spoke first.

"Perhaps you should call it a night Dana," he advised 
softly. "Maybe we all should.

She gave him a wan smile and patted his arm.

"Thanks, but I want to get a basic blood work analysis 
done straight away, anything that can give us a clue has 
to how this virus works might also tell us what happened 
to Wendy."

Mulder stood, the sound of his scraping chair unnaturally 
loud in the quiet hospital room and walked towards the 
door.

He stopped in front of Scully using his height advantage 
to tower over her.

"Let's go, Scully."

"No Mulder," she said with a sigh of resignation. 
"There's still too much to be done tonight. Get some 
rest, you're still running a temperature."

He worked his jaw as if to argue before shaking his head 
slightly and barging past her out the door.

*****

"I know why you're angry," called Porter as Mulder 
reached the car.

Mulder stopped, waiting as Porter unhurriedly walked the 
last 10 metres.

"You were sexually assaulted today and that's hard enough 
to admit without the fact that it was done by a woman 
whom you should have been able to physically stop," he 
added.

"But that's not why you're angry."

Mulder shook his head and thrummed his fingers on the car 
roof for a second before disappearing inside the vehicle.

"You're angry at Dana." 

Mulder said nothing, glaring at him through the open car 
window. "I'm a psychologist too remember." 

"You blame her for not backing you up when you needed 
her, you also blame her for not being Becky... or Diana."

"Shut the fuck up Jack, you don't know anything," Mulder 
warned in a low voice as he brutally shifted the car into 
gear.

Jack was not intimidated.

"You're in love with your partner but scared in case she 
feels the same."


*****

It was the sound of the horses that roused William from 
his sleep. 

Although he had dismissed Kate's warning out of hand, he 
didn't trust Colonel Spender and that alone was enough to 
make him bivouac with his squad on duty tonight instead 
of take his usual accommodation in the barracks.

Whinnying of distressed horses was overwhelmed by the sound 
of repeated musket shots and shouts.

The stables were aflame and men and women ran to avoid 
panicked animals as well as the masked men on horseback 
sweeping through the compound at a gallop torching tents 
and smashing fences and pens as they went.

The men didn't speak or wear any identifying markings.

While the guards on duty chased the faceless intruders 
the Governor's House would be vulnerable.

Holding his sword in one hand and fully loaded musket in 
the other, William ran towards the Governor's house, 
taking cover to avoid the riders as well as stray musket 
balls.

The outer kitchen building was completely aflame, as was 
the governor's own stables. The only building immune was 
the four-storey high water tower that stood like a beacon 
400 yards up a steep embankment. The round castellated 
structure also held a safe room where the guard's wages 
and other spoils were held.

Like Rapunzel's tower, it could hold people too with 
enough stores and, of course, plenty of water to 
withstand a siege or attempts to set it ablaze.

Now a weak light illuminated one of the windows.

William grimaced and turned back to the house. Kate was 
right after all.

He kept in the moonlight shadows until he found the back 
serving entrance. The sounds of women's screams, yells, 
crashing glass and porcelain and slamming doors filled 
his ears as he moved stealthily from one floor to 
another.

"The Governor is not in the house, we've checked every 
room. He must be in the strong tower." 

Through a door slightly ajar William watched the profile 
of an agitated man make his report - face obscured by a 
kerchief over his mouth and nose and a black broad-
brimmed hat sitting low over his eyes.

He knew who he was reporting to without seeing him. The 
thick distinct odor of cigar smoke told him of Spender's 
presence.

"Bring the girl out here."

From a room adjoining Katie emerged, arm gripped by 
another of the mutineers. She wore a thin robe covering a 
cotton nightdress. 

Hair fell away from her face as she raised her head to 
meet the gaze of her interrogator. The beginnings of a 
bruise coloured her cheek.

Spender stepped forward and fingered the bruise with his 
gloved hand.

"Eavesdroppers rarely hear anything to their advantage."

A swift and brutal backhand would have brought Katie to 
her knees if not for the man who held her immobile by 
both arms.

William swallowed an outburst and closed his eyes forcing 
the adrenaline to ebb. Even with one ready primed shot, 
the odds weighed against him in an intervention.

"Call the others to retreat. We'll take stock and 
regroup," Spender announced.

"What about her?" The man who held Kate shook her 
brutally.

"She knows too much about our plans. Take her with us. 
She still has some uses."
William saw a flare of panic in Kate's countenance as 
both hands were bound behind her with length of cord.

A target emerged, the man who made his report. William 
fired a round and stepped into the room avoiding the 
crimson flood from the fallen man's body.

In one swift motion William had retrieved the dead man's 
pistol and had it pointed at Spender's face.

"Let her go."

The older man was unmoved, pointing his own pistol at 
Kate and the man who held her.

Kate's struggle against her captor ceased. One large 
gloved hand clamped over her mouth kept her face steady.

"Do you play chess Captain Mulder? 

"Sometimes you have to sacrifice a pawn to advance 
towards checkmate; a calculated move to render even the 
most powerful of your opponent's pieces impotent."

"I will kill you," William vowed.

"I have no doubt you will," Spender acknowledged. "But 
not today.

"I have to two sage pieces of advice for you Captain. 
Take the queen and you control the board and don't forget 
- some pieces can take you from behind."

Spender nodded and William's head resonated like Sunday 
church bells as a new assailant pistol-whipped him.

Sinking to the floor, his vision sparking like lit black 
powder, William watched helplessly as Kate is dragged 
away by the two henchmen as Spender followed behind.


Sea Mist Cottage
6am

Mulder had never been a big fan of sleeping. 

It was when the strange dreams and nightmares would come 
to haunt him - of the sister he couldn't save or the 
partner who needed his help but was always out of reach.

So he was fully aware when Scully opened the door to Sea 
Mist Cottage at 12.40am and dragged herself to bed. He 
was equally conscious when she rose at 4.30am and made 
herself coffee before departing at 5.15am.

But he lay in his bed staring at a slow revolving ceiling 
fan, unwilling to move his head that pounded with 
migraine like intensity.

Perhaps it's a symptom, although Jack never mentioned it.


Norfolk Island Base Hospital
7.45am

"They're for you."

Scully raised her eyes from her laptop to see a small 
riot of red hibiscus flowers obviously hand picked from 
the shrubs around the hospital.

"Umm, thank you Dr Schofield,"

"Neil, please."

"Uh, I appreciate the gesture Neil but..."

Scully is stopped by Schofield's laugh.

"I'm sorry, I bring you these flowers with only 
honourable intent. I think they're another piece in the 
puzzle. A clue."

Scully examined the tropical flowers carefully.

"These particular flowers or hibiscus in general?"

Dr Schofield nimbly lifted himself on the bench before
sliding over type written notes.

"I was inspired by your research and have done some of my 
own. 

"Hibiscus is said to have aphrodesiac properties and with 
the wide use of Kava all across the South Pacific, you 
have a very potent mix."

Scully nodded for him to continue.

"I was thinking a lot about what you were saying about 
the virus and how it seems to be mutating. What if these 
flowers help create a trigger?"

"You mean something along the lines of an allergic 
response?"

"Perhaps, I'm just guessing here."

Her eyes skimmed over the medicinal effects. 

Use of the hibiscus plant has been well document not only 
as a contraceptive but also as an ingredient in 
contraceptive and abortion potions, treatment for kidney 
and menstrual conditions - even diabetes.

Kava from the shrub Piper methysticum, is native to the 
Polynesian Islands and used by the Islanders as a 
religious and visionary herb and aphrodisiac. Then 
blended with coconut milk, kava is fermented to produce a 
potent beverage used for important rituals. The effect of 
the drink is to relax spinal activity, producing an 
euphoric state of relaxation but without impairing mental 
activity.

A theory starts tumbling into cohesive order in Scully's 
mind.

"Hibiscus pollen is inhaled, or perhaps somehow the 
ingredient is ingested causing an immunological response 
which the virus uses to infiltrate the body and begin its 
changes to the DNA."

Schofield sits back, impressed at the rate Agent Scully 
has assimilated the facts and turned them into a working 
theory.

He took him hours last night to draw the same conclusion 
and share it with the rest of the group. They were more 
worried than impressed when he couldn't answer what long-
term exposure would mean.

But he was just a doctor, not a pathologist with a wide 
experience in toxicology. Schofield looked to Scully for 
answers. He wasn't disappointed.

"At a guess, and mind you this will have to be proven, 
long term exposure to the mutating virus may mean 
increased risk of asthmatic-like illness or anaphylaxis 
especially after sex," she speculated.

"Although female to male infection is rare, it is 
certainly not unheard off especially in people with 
frequent sex partners. I'm not sure whether ongoing 
exposure will be deadly to everyone in the long term, but 
it's going to be impossible to say without further 
examination.

"I think Mother Nature is closing the door on 
promiscuity."

END PART X