Love's Savage Sea Spray: An XFiles Pirate Saga, Episode One, Part Two
By: THE X-CENTRIC WRITING COLLECTIVE: 
Char Chaffin (char@chaffin.com), 
Foxsong (foxsong@foxsongfiles.net) 
MaybeAmanda (maybe_a@rocketmail.com 

CATEGORY: MSR, Parody, Humor 
RATING: R, for adult themes, lusty scenes and some rough seafarin'
language

CLASSIFICATION: 
We gleefully parody the trashy romance-novel, "bodice-ripper" genre
by placing our favorite characters in one! (You can thank us later) 
ARCHIVE: Xemplary, Gossamer, and anywhere else is fine - just let us
know! 

SPOILERS: Nay! 

DISCLAIMER: 
Mulder, Scully, Skinner and the gang be not ours, Mateys... we only
beg for the right to turn their "lives" into one big "Bodice-Rippin"
Good Time!

AUTHORS' NOTES, ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: 
We had a blast writing this little ditty, and although it took quite
a while to finish, we sure laughed a lot. It was our intent to poke
some gentle fun, not only at our beloved X-Files menagerie, but also
at romance, angst, violence and basic debauchery. 

SUMMARY: The dashing Lt. Fox Mulder saves the Lady Dana Scully from
the lustful clutches of the pirate Captain Skinner, and other
assorted seafarin' meanies in this loving tribute to the "Romance
Novel..." 



EPISODE ONE, PART TWO


Her eyes flew open as her hand encountered not thick, cool hair, but
hot, sweaty and very bare skin, in an area which usually contained
locks of hair. She found herself gazing into the eyes of the captain,
the man who'd bought her, the man who now owned her, body and soul,
and who was busy unfastening her gown with large, roughly callused
fingers. He breathed through his mouth, gasping with barely-concealed
desire, eyes black with the lust boiling up inside his massively-
muscled body. 

At the feel of those hands roughly disrobing her, Dana came fully
awake, gasping in shock and pushing at the hands, at him. She
struggled fiercely, but it was like trying to move stone, so strong
was this powerfully-built man who spoke not a word, but continued to
tug at her clothes. 

So intent was he upon discovering the ripe treasure hidden
underneath the green velvet of her gown, that he never saw her little
foot move, coming up and catching him in the groin, hard. He grunted
with the sudden pain, and slid sideways a little, just enough for her
to scramble off the bed and run to the other side of the room, where
she grasped a serving knife from the tray which held the remains of
her earlier meal. Holding the knife in front of her in both hands,
she spat furiously, "Do not come near me, Sirrah! Trust my words when
I vow I know how to use a knife, and can throw one as well, with
deadly aim! 'Tis the one thing my odious brother taught me, and
taught me well, before he betrayed me. I have enough anger and
resentment built up inside me to make of you quite the pincushion,
should you take a step in my direction!" 

Her tormentor merely smiled, and made himself more comfortable on
her bed, one hand still cradling his aching groin, although the pain
was dissipating fast. He regarded her with hot eyes, seeing the way
her lovely breasts heaved with each word, each breath she took. He'd
no doubt she could carve him up if she got the chance. His initial
fervid ardor had been cooled, just a little, by the pain inflicted
upon him with that little foot of hers. He could wait her out, for a
bit. Just a bit. He grinned again and folded his arms under his head. 

"And why, pray tell, should I not come near you, my Lady? I have
bought you, after all! I have paid solid coin for you, quite a lot
more than I have ever paid for any woman, I assure you! Tell me, my
lovely Irish, would you rather have been bought by one of those
odious, disgusting creatures standing there at the auction block,
drooling at the sight of your young, sweet flesh? I promise you,
they'd have used you most foully, for they are without any semblance
of humanity, the lot of them!" He smiled anew at the look of
repulsion which crossed her face; he knew she was recalling some of
the men who'd undoubtedly been present at the auction, for those same
men showed up at every auction. He continued his little informative
narrative. 

"Those men mayhap are rich, but they are diseased, and foul of mind
and body, perverse in their appetites. They would have used you in
the most heinous ways, and then discarded you as easily as emptying a
chamber pot out the window, when they'd used you all up! I, on the
other hand..." he stood, and stretched, allowing her widened gaze to
view his impressive breadth of shoulder and length of leg, the
elegant cut of his breeches, and the power he kept contained within.
" ... I am a man in the prime of my life, strong and healthy and
virile. I have no diseases, for I assure the protection of my body
when I take a woman. I am rich, richer than your wildest imaginings,
and I can give you everything you would most covet. And I would
require naught but the availability of your lovely body to soothe my
fever, whenever I desire -- and I would desire you all the time, of
that I am sure! And, as I am wont to remind you, I have purchased
that right. But, in deference to your youth and innocence, and as a
sign of my innate respect for your many charms, I will play the
gentleman and request of you, your permission to take you to bed, and
possess you, and make of you my bed-wench. Well, what say you, Miss?" 

Throughout his diatribe, Dana had spoken not a word, and had not
lowered the knife from its deadly position in front of her, held in
both hands. Eyes locked to his, with his every word her gaze
unfaltering, she did not reply for a long moment. Finally, she gave a
small sigh, face downcast, as if ruminating upon his words. Then her
gaze lifted and her blue orbs fastened on his dark ones, and she
spoke with definitive strength and purpose. 

"Tis true, you are a cleaner sort than the dregs which sought to
touch me on that awful block. And you are a man of decent looks, well-
dressed and well-spoken, and 'tis obvious you are a man of
substantial worth. But, Milord," she cautioned, still holding the
knife as protection, when he would have jumped up from the bed and
approached her, "Milord, you are still a pirate. You are still a
despoiler of innocence, a thief, and a blackguard. You deal in the
purchase of human flesh! You plunder and rape, blanketing your crimes
in the pretty wrapping of honeyed words. But you rape; never doubt my
understanding of that! You rape, and you cause pain, and you give
nothing but humiliation to the hapless recipients of your
'attentions'. And Sir, I shall not be a part of it! So, Captain
Skinner..." she gripped the knife tightly, and held it pointed
outwards, shining in the dim light of the room, "So, I must decline
your oh-so-generous offer, and thus inform you that if you come any
closer to my person I shall have to kill you." 

He gaped at her, at her impossible refusal, unwillingly registering
the truth of her ringing resolve. Then he grinned anew, an evil, dark
grin, and slowly advanced toward her, arms loose at his side. "Well,
then, my lovely Irish, you give me no option, no recourse. I shall
have you, willing or unwilling, as it makes naught of a difference to
me. You shall scream in pain or ecstasy -- your choice, I warrant --
as I take you, and take you, and fill myself with you even as I fill
your delectable little body to overflowing." And thus declaring, he
lunged for her as she threw the knife. 

It embedded itself high in his shoulder. He howled with the pain,
but it didn't stop him from wrestling her to the floor, blood running
from the wound and covering them both, as he ripped at her gown with
one strong hand, exposing her white breasts and rosy nipples. His
mouth fastened upon the trembling little bud, and she cried out as he
pulled at it with his teeth. Pinned underneath him, her hands held
behind her in one of his large fists, she twisted against him in a
cold panic as he pulled and tugged at her heavy skirts; as he
uncovered her satiny flesh, inch by inch; her soft calves, and
slender flanks. He took hold of her shimmy, tugging at the delicate
material, ripping it to tatters. His hand went to the fastening of
his breeches, fumbling with the buttons, holding her tightly as he
continued to mouth her breasts and free his raging staff. His hand
finally pushed its way into his gaping breeches and reached for his
root...only to find it as limp and as unresponsive as a dead snake. He
loosed his mouth from her reddened nipple, looking down at the
betrayingly soft flesh with disbelieving eyes... 

And the force of the blow which she inflicted upon the side of his
head with a crystal candlestick, which had toppled off a low table
and within reach of her hand during their skirmish, knocked his head
sideways as, with a low moan of pain, his body slid from hers and he
sprawled on the floor, out cold. 

She stared at him hard, waiting to see if he would move, but he was
still. She scrambled away from him, doing her best to stuff her
breasts back into the torn bodice of her dress, refusing to give in
to the shock. Not yet, she told herself, not until she was safe. 

As she dragged herself to her feet, trembling all over, the door
opened just a little, and Mulder poked in his head. His eyes were
drawn to the sight of his captain, laid out on the floor with one
massive hand still wrapped around his limp member, a knife protruding
from his bloody shoulder. His gaze swung to Dana, noting the
trembling lips and glazed, shocked eyes. He opened his arms, and she
hesitated but a moment before flying into them, burying herself deep
into his embrace, arms sliding around his slender waist as if they'd
always belonged there. He tipped up her chin and forced her gaze to
meet his. 

"Scully... did he hurt you? Did he..." God, he couldn't even say the
words. 

She shook her head fiercely. "No, Mulder. He didn't. He couldn't..." 

Mulder nodded, and hugged her tightly. "Good. The potion worked its
magic in time." 

She looked up at him, utterly confused. "Potion...?" 

"Shhh. Wait a moment, and I'll explain." Mulder reached up to caress
her hair and then gently loosed himself from her embrace. He knelt
down next to the prone form of the captain, holding his open palm a
few scant inches from his nose and slack mouth, feeling for breath.

"At least we'll not have a body to dispose of tonight. He lives,
although I'll warrant his wounds will speak to him when he wakes." 
Just then, Skinner stirred and groaned, and his eyes blinked open.
Scully stepped back in fresh alarm, and Mulder said to her, a little
too loudly, "Foul wench! What have you done?" His hazel eyes pleaded
with her to forgive his words and to play along. "Tell me now what
happened - tell me, or you'll rue your silence as well as your acts!" 

"I have only defended myself!" she cried. Her heart beat wildly
behind her ribs, like a frightened bird trapped in a cage; her
trembling voice belied the bravery of her words. "I care not what
amount of gold was given for me. I'll be owned by no man!" She closed
her eyes against the sight as Mulder began to pull the knife out of
the captain's shoulder; when she could bear to look she saw that he
was holding a folded cloth against the wound to stanch the flow of
blood. Skinner had lifted his head and was staring at her in dull,
angry fascination. 

"This wench," he snarled, glowering, "this strumpet, this trollop,
this... this..." He began struggling to sit up, but Mulder pushed him
down. 

"Lie still," Mulder said, "until the bleeding slows. This must be
cleaned, and dressed - " 

"I know what must be done!" Skinner growled. "But I know as well
that this whore must learn her place - and her duties. You will take
her away and you will *reason* with her." He reached up and twisted a
handful of Mulder's shirt into his fist. "You will not leave *too*
many bruises. And no man on this ship need know what has come to pass
in this cabin tonight." He released Mulder's collar and fell back
again. 

"As you will," Mulder returned coolly. "Shall I send your man to
clean - " 

'I'll do it myself!" the captain barked. " 'Tis a scratch - and from
a mere chit as well. I have had far worse, I'll warrant!" He began to
sit up, and Mulder half-lifted him to his feet; he buttoned up his
pants and turned toward the cabin door. Although he swayed, he pushed
Mulder's supporting hand away. He pulled the door open and, leaning
against the frame, leered over his shoulder at Scully. "And as for
you..." Without finishing his sentence, he left the cabin, slamming
the door behind him. 

Scully stood frozen, staring at the closed door, until Mulder turned
to her, and she rushed once more into his outstretched arms. She hid
her face against his chest; he cradled her in his arms and stroked
her hair. "What am I to do?" she cried. 

"Shhh," Mulder murmured. "We'll think of something. Tonight, I
slipped a powder into his drink before he came to you, and it was
this that kept him from... " 

Scully lifted her head and gazed, wide-eyed with astonishment, into
Mulder's eyes. "So that was the 'potion' you mentioned! Where did you
- ?" 

He laid a finger upon her innocently-plumped lips to silence her. "I
cannot tell you. The less you know, the better. All you need know is
that I will find a way to save you - I swear it." He lovingly
caressed her face. "From the moment I saw you upon the block at that
terrible auction, I knew you were different - knew you were never
meant for such a fate as this." And with that, he leaned down and
covered her mouth with his own. 

His kiss was hot and fervent; his lips plundered the ripe treasure
of her mouth. He tasted of rum and spice and the open sea and
sunflower seeds (sunflower seeds?) and something else, something
spicy and mysterious and dark that was uniquely Fox Mulder. Or maybe
it was just that he'd had that same spicy stew for dinner, too... 

His tongue probed the honeyed cavern of her daintily-dewed mouth
with all the pent-up passion which had been building ever since he
had first looked upon her enchanting face and lusted after her
luscious, virginal form, a form such as the gods and angels
themselves would have fashioned; too perfect for his large, callused
hands as they twined themselves into her satin hair and he breathed
disjointed words of desire and longing into her shell-like ear as he
caressed every exposed inch of silky skin with his full, desire-
enflamed lips. 

Her whole universe narrowed to the confines of the strong manly arms
that held her helpless against his chest. She did not want to give
in, but she couldn't save herself; she twined her arms around his
neck and clung to him. Her lips opened unto his, permitting his
sinfully-sensuous tongue entry into a place where no man's tongue had
ever been permitted to venture. The heat of their combined passions
kept their bodies molded together as he plunged again and again into
her sweet depths, swirling around and over her teeth so lovingly,
tasting each one as if a morsel of manna from heaven itself. 

In this fashion, they exchanged kiss after kiss, drinking in each
other's moisture and essence until they were dizzy and drunk with it,
the endless need and desire. Heavy footsteps outside the door made
them fling themselves away from each other. Mulder glanced over his
shoulder at the sound, and his eyes were anguished when he looked
back at her. He stepped back, moved toward the door; he opened it,
and shouted for the benefit of anyone listening, "Remember from now
on to do as you're told!" He turned and stepped outside. "Let that be
a lesson to you!" he roared, slamming the door behind him. 

Scully fell back onto the soft cushions of the bed, her mind
reeling, overwhelmed. She had never met a man like this Mulder. How
unfair life was, that he should come now, now when she was no more
than another man's chattel, bought with his gold! And yet -- and yet,
Mulder had promised to find a way out of this trap. And she found
that she trusted him, and so trusted him to be as good as his word. 

She gathered the tattered remnants of her dress around herself and
went over to the large trunk full of clothing to select another
garment. She held her head high. She was, after all, a Scully. She
would not surrender - she would, somehow, triumph. 
 
>>> 5 

Captain Skinner finished tying the makeshift bandage over his
shoulder wound, then struggled into a clean linen shirt; it was
damned difficult with his aching shoulder, but he was determined to
get himself dressed without having to call his valet-man -- or
Mulder, for that matter. Fighting to tuck the voluminous material
into the tight breeches, he cursed a particularly vivid streak and
just left the shirt un-tucked. Unless his fair wench Irish had
another weapon hidden somewhere in her chemise (for he did remember
tearing her gown into shreds), he would not be wearing his clothing
long enough to care about striking a style. 

His shoulder twinged anew and he fumed in sudden fury at not only
being thwarted in his desire to bed his own possession, but in being
wounded by said possession, as well. Hell and Hades' nipples! How
long had it been since he'd been wounded, in the bloodiest of
battles! He was always the one left standing, after felling his
enemies with howling power and strength. Not even Lt. Mulder could
remain unscathed, although his fighting prowess was also well-known
and admired. Many was the time Skinner would find himself tending to
Mulder's wounds, after a skirmish at sea. He would grumble and deride
his poor Lieutenant unmercifully during the cleansing process, but
his large, callused fingers were always gentle. And he always made
sure that Mulder was thoroughly saturated with his best rum before
touching the wound. Mulder never felt a thing. 

Skinner shook his head derisively, for he assumed a softness of the
heart for his Lieutenant, a feeling he would never admit and would
carry to the grave. In spite of his bloody ways and gruff exterior,
Skinner was grateful for a man's loyalty and devotion, and Mulder had
proven his worth over the years. A grim smile upon his face, the
captain gave himself a moment to wonder what form of punishment his
first mate had delivered to his wayward wench. 

At that same moment, in the quarters which housed the captain's
"wayward wench," Lady Dana Scully ran trembling fingers over her
still-tingling lips as she lay back upon the red silk-covered bed and
recalled with shuddering heat the feel of Mulder's firm, full lips as
they'd caressed and rubbed themselves all over her soft skin. She
remembered the rough, wet tongue which had plundered her mouth and
had mated with her own in an erotic dance of want and desire. His
hands -- oh, his hands -- ! They had touched her shivering flesh in
places never before touched, had molded themselves to her upthrust,
pouting breasts and rosy nipples, circling each pretty point, tugging
lightly. If they'd been uninterrupted a moment longer, she was
certain his wondrously sensuous mouth would have replaced his
fingers, and she would have experienced, for the first time in her
life, the feel of a man supping at the bounty of her bosom --
rapture, pure rapture! If only... but what was that? 

A knock at the door; an urgent whisper. Mulder! He had returned! She
flew to the door, hung there in front of it in supplication, waiting. 
Slowly, the bolt drew back. Slowly, the heavy door swung open. And
there stood Mulder, his hair tousled, his eyes half-lidded with hot
desire as he perused her lovely form. He took one firm step and was
inside the room, slamming the door tightly as he reached out both
eager hands for his lady, and she fair leapt into his embrace and
clung to him as he rained rough-tender kisses over her face and
shoulders, whispering hoarsely, "Oh, my love, my Scully... my Dana...
I could not stay away from you, dearest one. I had to see you, to
assure myself you were well, to assure myself you were real, and in
my arms, kissing and holding me." 

His feverish kisses trailed down the side of her slender neck into
the soft skin between her breasts, and his impatient fingers tugged
at the lacy neckline of her chemise, baring her white globes and
blushing tips to his ardent gaze. She met that gaze proudly, wanting
him to worship her body. He groaned at the knowledge that even his
eyes upon her could make those delectable buds pout and rise firm
against her rounded perfection. He dipped his head, and his lips
opened and he gently sipped at one sweet flower. Then his thirst knew
no bounds as he seized her willing body tightly into his embrace, and
bent her backwards, forcing the ripe fruit upwards, and his parched
lips took endless suckle at the fount of her heaving breast. She
gasped and moaned with the sweetness which pierced her deeper than an
arrow, and her trembling fingers wound themselves through his thick
hair and held on for dear life. He bit and licked at her, tiny bites
which caused her to shudder even harder. Then they were falling back
onto the bed, his mouth still feeding upon her sweet flesh. 

Suddenly, there was a loud crash right outside her door, and once
again they found themselves springing apart in guilty surprise. Dana
tugged at her chemise with fingers so shaky she could barely make
them function in time. She managed to pull the chemise in place and
fasten the sides of her gaping gown, affording her a little of her
lost modesty. Mulder pressed his finger to his mouth, glancing at the
door. He was certain it was the captain, coming to finish his unholy
task. Luckily the potion was still in effect, and Skinner would not
be able to begin anew, much less finish. 

Motioning Dana to stay prone upon the bed, Mulder approached the
door and wrenched it open, shouting roughly as he did so, "You'll not
try to sway me with your honeyed words, my lady whore..." his words
reaching the captain's ears as he stood in the doorway, his sharp
eyes taking in the scene before him; the room in disarray, the
reddened cheeks of his purchase, shaken from the punishment he was
certain had been meted out by his lieutenant. Mulder was breathing as
if from running, his hand covering a very large arousal showing quite
plainly beneath the tight breeches he wore. Skinner noted the bulge;
Mulder met his inquiring gaze and spoke with deference and humility
in his voice. 

"Sir, I beg your forgiveness. In my zealousness to assure the wench
learned her lesson in her defiance of you, I am afraid I was... um...
aroused unwillingly as I caused her the pain of her punishment." 
Skinner's gaze pinned Scully to the bed, searching for bruises. 
Mulder hastily added, "Sir, her bruises are in places where your eye
could not discern. Not at the moment. I felt it prudent to place her
punishment where the rest of the crew could not see them. As a saving
grace to you, Sir." 

Skinner nodded approvingly; as usual, his lieutenant had shown quite
a bit of foresight. He turned and stared once again at the cowering
wench on the bed, and brought a hand to his breeches to rub at
himself. He was still limp as a wet sea biscuit. God's Buttocks! What
in Hades was wrong with him!? He'd not suffered this sort of limpness
since planking his first whore at the tender age of eleven. 

His fevered brain told him, nay, screamed at him, to take the chit
and bury himself deep and sure within her virgin flesh. But his body
protested the thought of doing just that. His body was betraying him
for no apparent reason. And his men must never know, he thought with
something akin to panic. They must never know their captain had ever
known a moment of weakness. He thought furiously -- what to do to
stimulate his unwilling flesh? There must be something he'd not
attempted, some sort of sensual thrill which he'd not sampled. 

And then he espied Mulder standing at attention near the door, and
that other part of his body, his man-root, also standing at attention
within the tight confines of his buff breeches -- and quite an
impressive standing it was! His lieutenant was hung like a young
bull, all length and thickness, and full-balled. Skinner could just
imagine how full they must be, for even covered in the fine wool
material of his breeches, the captain could see how heavy they seemed
and how they pressed his root into the bulge which stretched him to
an impressive size and girth. Skinner suddenly smiled, thinking he
knew a way to stir his unwilling flesh into a performance. 

He turned to his second-in-command, and ordered, "Lt. Mulder! I want
you to tie the chit to the bedposts, and cut her clothes off with my
skinning knife. Then you will sit here by the door, and watch as I
take this new bed-wench of mine, as I deflower her once and for all!"
And so commanding, the captain unbuckled his pistol-belt, and slowly
began removing his shirt. 

Dana's eyes, grown large with fear and trepidation as she'd listened
to his command, became even larger with untamed fear as she observed
his disrobing. Surely he didn't mean to...? But, oh God and all his
Minions -- he did! He meant to rape and defile her innocence in front
of the one, she knew now, she had saved herself for, in front of her
one and only love, in front of her beloved Mulder! 

What on earth could she do? Her shocked, tear-filled eyes met those
of Mulder, finding his equally horrified, shocked beyond measure. She
shrank back upon the bed-pillows, trembling violently now, clutching
the chemise to herself in such abject fright she doubted she could
even live through such agony as this. 

She closed her beautiful blue eyes, as Skinner stood, his massively-
muscled chest proudly outthrust, his entire body proudly stanced,
except for the offendingly limp evidence of his root's determination
not to cooperate. Ah, but that would change, and very soon! 

He approached the bed, hands reaching for her, intending to rip the
clothes from her body. Then, remembering he'd wanted to watch Mulder
do this, he turned and picked up his knife from the floor, and held
it out to Mulder, commanding, "Take the knife, Lieutenant, and cut
her clothes away." 

Mulder slowly reached out one numbed hand for the knife, his
despairing eyes never leaving Scully's, a wealth of undying love and
deep apology shining in his gaze, as his fingers closed about the
handle of the knife. He slowly walked toward the bed where his love
of a lifetime lay, shivering in fear. He lifted the knife high,
watching her tears spill over her pale cheeks and run in rivulets
down onto her white bosom. Somehow, he would find a way to thwart the
captain yet again, and save them both. 

He delicately ran the tip of the knife down the center of her gown,
the sharp blade piercing the thick material and splitting it like the
skin of a grape. Scully sucked in a horrified gasp, but she was not
cut; only the material fell to the sides of her quivering breasts,
leaving her chemise sliced as well, but still miraculously in place.

Wordlessly, he mouthed the words, "I love you, my dearest Scully,"
then turned his back on her and advanced to where Skinner sat, near
the door, eyes glazed anew with lust and passion as he looked his
fill upon the tempting morsel shivering in the bed. 

He slowly rose, one hand reaching out for the door latch to help
steady his still-shaky frame, opened his mouth to gruffly command
Mulder into the chair which he'd just vacated, and suddenly there
came to their ears a loud commotion from the deck above. Skinner
cursed vehemently under his breath and grated out, "Lt. Mulder! Go
above and see what those scurvy sons of whores have gotten themselves
up to. Then, when you have secured their obedience, return to this
chamber and attend me." 

Mulder could do naught but to obey, for refusing would only arouse
suspicion. Slowly he moved toward the door, opening it wide, and
flinging one last, pleading look at his lady, walked through the
opening and shut the door. A bellow from within caused his eyes to
snap shut in utter anguish, as Skinner yelled, "Bolt the door,
Lieutenant!" His heart breaking within his chest, Mulder slid the
bolt home with trembling fingers. 

- - - - - - - - 

Above deck, a series of fistfights had broken out, and the worst of
the fray had gone ugly. By the time Mulder reached them, a swabbie
lay dead. Young Morgan, it was, bloody and silent on the wet deck.
Mulder paled as he beheld the boy. Darin... his name had been Darin.
Just a young boy, barely eleven, he'd begged to be taken on board, at
one of their last ports of call. Mulder remembered that day... 

"Please, Mr. Mulder, Sir!" the boy had begged, "Please take me with
ye! Me mam don't want me, not no more. She ain't cared ta have me
here since I was a snot in nappies. Too busy spreading 'er legs for
the gents ta care for me, anyhow. Please let me come an' work fer
ye..." And Mulder, feeling sorry for the skinny lad, had agreed. He
had taken him to the ship and settled him in with the other swabbies.
They'd ribbed the poor boy nigh to death at first, but the lad had
spunk, and before long they were affectionately cuffing him about the
ears as they worked, calling him "Squid" and "Sprout." The lad had
blossomed. 

Only, Mulder thought sadly, to end broken and bloody upon the deck
of a ship which was meant to have been his escape. 

"Which of you would be responsible for this? I demand to know his
name so I may give him a fair trial before I run him through...!" 
 
>>> 6 

Lady Dana Scully thought she'd been frightened before now, but that
fright was as nothing compared to what she was experiencing, there on
that rumpled red silk bed, behind a heavy door bolted from the
outside, her gown sliced from her upper body and her equally-cut
chemise barely covering her pale bounty. Her wide, terrified gaze
locked upon that of the ruthless Captain Skinner, who was now bending
over her small frame, grasping at her white shoulders with his huge,
rough hands, pulling her up and into his strong and inescapable
embrace as he rasped into her hair, "It is time, my lady wench, for
you to repay me for my kindness of purchasing you off that block and
saving you from the likes of those diseased dregs whom you had every
right to fear. But you needn't fear me, my little one. I will not
punish you for your earlier... transgression... for I full well
understand a lady's hesitancy and worries the first time her field is
plowed asunder, I surely do. And your actions have assured me of your
lady's status." He pressed his hard mouth to her temple and she
shuddered in revulsion, pushing helplessly against the wall of his
chest. 

"If you accept my lady's status, Captain, if you know this of me,
and accept it, then you cannot, cannot commit this heinous act. You
must have some shred of decency within you, some scrap which shouts
to you of the necessity, nay, the duty you have, to protect the
innocent, to revere the delicacy of maidenhood..." her voice trailed
off in the wake of the sharp bark of laughter which left his throat;
the grimly amused smile he flashed at her, gold tooth sparkling
between his full lips. 

"Revere the delicacy of maidenhood, my dear? Ho, that be a good
one!" He barked out another laugh. Then his eyes narrowed, all
amusement suddenly gone from them. He focused that gaze upon her pale
yet resolute face, and bit off each word with deliberate politeness.

"I am a pirate, milady; a man, a solider and a brigand, but first and
foremost, a pirate. It is the first thought I have upon rising in the
morn, and the last thought before I close this one good eye as I take
to my bed." He tapped the black leather eyepatch mockingly. "A pirate
does not concern himself of the 'delicacy of a lady,' and he does not
care overmuch of the offense of that same lady's sensibilities. I
live to live, milady, and I live to the fullest, knowing I may very
well die on the morrow. I live each day to the fullest, which means I
eat what I will, drink to excess whenever I wish, and I avail myself
of a comely wench as often as possible -- four times a day should
suffice, I would warrant -- after all, I am not so young as I used to
be..." 

And so saying, Skinner buried his face in Scully's exposed, creamy,
pale bosom, and began to lick and press at her with eager lips. She
cried out at the unwelcome feel of his mouth and his body, struggling
anew to free herself even as he pulled and ripped her heavy skirts.
She felt herself weakening with the pain of being bent back so
harshly, unable to gain any leverage with which to push at his head.

He was fastening his hot mouth upon her rosy nipple, a grossly
repugnant imitation of that sacred act which she'd shared with
Mulder, her love. Tears slid from her drenched eyes as she faced the
very real possibility that Mulder would not be able to rescue her
again, not this time 

Skinner was reaching again for the fastening on his breeches. Oh
God. Just as before, she prayed fervently, prayed as she had never
prayed before, for a miracle, a last-minute reprieve, anything. 
And her prayers surely were answered. For there, between his legs,
once again, just as before, Captain Walter Skinner was as limp as a
swabbie's mop-head. He wrapped his hand around his uncooperative
member, shocked and disbelieving the betrayal of his own body. 

Captain Skinner threw back his head and emitted a roar such as the
entire ship had never heard. His blazing, accusing eyes suddenly
pinned Scully up against the bedpost, as he snarled at her with
furious virulence, "Witch! Sorceress! You have unmanned me, yet
again! Daughter of Satan! Whore of Hades! I shall have my revenge
against you, once and for all. You shall rue this day, milady bitch.
I vow, you shall!" And with that last curse spit into her pale,
frightened face, his hand wrapped bruisingly about her slender wrist,
Skinner dragged Scully from the bed and across the room, where his
large, booted foot kicked at the wooden door several times. 

The bolt outside snapped; with one last, mighty kick he sent the
door crashing open, and he pulled her helplessly protesting body out
into the galley, and up to the above deck, through the masses of
still-brawling crewmen and right up to the railing of the foredeck,
flinging her against the hard tangle of ropes there, as he vowed,

"Now, milady, let us see if a witch floats or drowns!" 

He grabbed at her with hands as piercing as a predator bird's deadly
talons and lifted her up, to throw her onto the roiling, raging seas.
Her screams and cries for mercy, and for Mulder, rang throughout the
tossing ship: 

"MULDER! I NEED YOUR HELP! MULDER!!!"
 
>> 7 

Mulder raced around the corner to see Scully and the Captain locked
in a terrible struggle. She clung desperately to the tangle of ropes
at the foot of the mast, clawing frantically at Skinner whenever she
could free one hand or the other. He was pulling her away from the
mast toward the rail, and he was rapidly gaining the upper hand. The
tattered ribbons of Scully's lacy chemise fluttered, incongruously
festive, as she strained to free herself. 

In that awful first split-second that Mulder watched, frozen,
riveted, she bit furiously at the hand Skinner had clamped over her
mouth. Skinner howled in rage and pain, and slapped her cheek hard
with his bloodied hand. 

The shock of it brought Mulder to his senses, and he sprang forward.
He thrust himself between the combatants and pushed the Captain back,
shouting, "Stop! Stop -- Captain, what are you doing? Unhand her!" 

"Unhand her! Unhand her? What, Mulder -- do you think to protect my
costly investment?" Skinner roared, red-faced. "I tell you, she is a
sorceress. A witch! It was my coin that was paid for her, and damn
it, if I wish to see my own property thrown to the sharks, then it
shall be so done!" 

"I am no sorceress," Scully hissed, "and you are no man! If you were
able to do even one of the vile things you proposed to do to me, no
doubt you would never consider tossing me into the sea. If you are
but half a man, it is through no fault of mine!" 

With a wordless roar, Skinner flung Mulder aside and rushed at
Scully again, and she shrieked as loudly as she could. Men were
starting to come above decks, drawn by the commotion. They began to
crowd around, their lanterns casting an unearthly light on the scene.

They muttered among themselves, and a few laughed. 

Mulder was upon the Captain before he had time to think. He
purposefully slammed his fist into Skinner's wounded shoulder, and
ducked just in time to miss the wild punch the Captain reflexively
threw with his good hand. Scully, loosed now from Skinner's grasp,
did not run, but instead rained furious blows upon him with her
fists, and Mulder took advantage of Skinner's surprise to get in a
few good punches of his own. 

"Look at 'er!" went up an approving catcall from the group of
watching pirates. "She's a spitfire, she is -- these red'eads, they
always are!" Men hooted and clapped in agreement, but the laughter
began to die away as they divined the deadly nature of the struggle
before them. 

Mulder and Skinner were locked in an awful wrestling match. Blood
from his earlier injury stained the shoulder of Skinner's shirt;
blood trickled from Mulder's nose where Skinner had hit him in an
unguarded second. Scully still scrambled along with the two men,
getting in such blows as she could, unable to bear the sight of
Mulder's bloodied face. They rolled and thrashed their way closer and
closer to the ship's rail, and the now-silent crowd of men followed,
waiting like vultures to descend on the weaker when he should fall. 

All at once Skinner changed his tactic. He snaked a hand out to
grasp a fistful of Scully's red hair, and dragged her screaming into
the thick of the fray. Mulder leaped for her, but the Captain's well-
placed boot at his knee sent him sprawling, and gave Skinner the
moment he needed to pin Scully against the rail. He glared
triumphantly at Mulder, who'd sprung to his feet, and now stood at
bay, panting, his eyes glancing anxiously from Skinner's face to
Scully's and back. 

"So!" snarled Skinner, "I begin to see, Lieutenant. I think you want
this red-headed bitch for yourself, don't you?" He pulled at Scully's
hair and her head jerked back. She gritted her teeth at the pain, but
her wide blue eyes never left Mulder's face. 

"Let her go," Mulder said in a low, cold voice. "Just let her go,
and we'll not mention this night, Captain, ever again." 

Skinner gave a bark of harsh, incredulous laughter. "And who are you
to tell me what to do? I command you. This is my ship, and this -- "
with another tug at Scully's hair -- "is my wench, to do with as I
will. And I tell you, she was a bad purchase, money ill-spent. She is
a witch and a sorceress, and she'll be food for the sharks!" 

Scully wriggled furiously against Skinner's grasp. "Do you know why
he calls me a sorceress?" she cried, loudly enough for all to hear.
"Because he cannot do a man's duty by me, and he thinks I have
unmanned him!" 

A murmuring had begun in the crowd behind him, and Mulder risked a
glance over his shoulder at the faces of the men. "Tis truth!" he
shouted. His voice rose. "Twice he has been to her bed and twice he
has failed -- and he would blame her, and throw her into the sea!" 

A silence fell over the assembled men, and then a cackle arose at
the back of the group. "I tell ye, a wench like that would make a man
of anyone!" A wave of soft, uneasy laughter went through the crowd. 

Mulder turned back to the captain and saw the shock and rage written
on his face. "Mulder!" Skinner gasped. "You -- Why, Mulder? Why now?" 

"Because I'll not stand by and see her used this way!" he snarled.
Someone slipped forward out of the crowd and pressed a sword into his
hand, and he raised it slowly. "Let Scully go, Sir, or I shall free
her by whatever means you make necessary." 

"I trusted you," Skinner said slowly, "Mulder -- this is ... mutiny." 

Mulder shrugged. "Call it what you will, but unhand her now. This is
the last time I shall ask." He made a small, threatening gesture with
the sword. "Sir. Now." 

Scully saw Mulder shifting his weight almost imperceptibly on the
balls of his feet, and at the same time realized that Skinner's grip
on the fistful of her hair had loosened. She chose that instant to
duck and to thrust her elbow as hard as she could into his
midsection. She heard him grunt in surprised pain and saw Mulder leap
forward to take advantage of the moment, and as she dropped to the
floor and rolled away she saw the whole crowd of men descending upon
Skinner like a pack of wolves scenting defeat in their old leader and
going in for the kill. 

Scully cringed against the bulkhead, cowering, listening, afraid to
look. There was a terrible commotion, shouting and the ringing of
swords, and at last a man's desperate scream -- she could not tell
whose -- and a distant splash. The men's voices were savage and
triumphant. 

Suddenly a rough hand seized her arm and pulled her to her feet. She
was dragged out into the light, into the center of the circle of wild
men, and the man who held her wrist threw her down onto the deck and
shouted, "Now, mates -- We'll see if she's indeed a sorceress! I've
ten gold doubloons that say she'll not unman *me* -- Who'll take my
bet? I'll prove it now, before you all!" 

"And I'll prove myself when you've done!" cried another voice. "Aye,
and I so shall we all, by turns -- what say you, mates?" added a
third. Loud, raucous laughter erupted, and Scully looked around for a
means of escape, but the crowd was all around her, and she saw no way
out. 

The first man stepped forward and reached for his belt buckle, but
before he could even begin to open it, Mulder thrust himself through
the crowd, and the tip of his rapier flashed out and laid open the
man's breeches from hip to knee. Blood welled up from the razor-thin
cut along his thigh. A heavy silence fell over the crowd. 

Mulder stood over Scully, one tall black boot on either side of her
body. His voice was eerily quiet; none had ever heard him speak so,
and they all stepped back uneasily. "Anyone who lays so much as a
finger upon this woman shall indeed be unmanned. Not by sorcery, but
by my own sword." His eyes were dark and his countenance grim; blood
ran from a cut on his cheekbone and smeared his collar. "This ship is
mine now, and so is this woman. Mine. Is that clear to every man
here?" 

He looked slowly from one man to another, surveying their faces. One
by one, each man dropped his eyes when Mulder's gaze searched his
face. "Aye, sir," someone murmured, and the rest began to assent.
"Aye." "Aye, Captain Mulder." "As you will, sir." 

"Good," Mulder said slowly, satisfied. "Now get back to your duties.
I'll not have the Piper Maru yawing all over the sea because the
jackals who crew her are busy slavering over some poor gel." 

The men shuffled away and dispersed. Mulder swung one long leg over
Scully and crouched down beside her. He reached out and stroked her
cheek with one gentle hand. "Scully," he breathed, "my dear one, my
darling. I'm so sorry. Are you --? Will you be alright?" 

She sat up slowly and he put his strong arms around her, drawing her
close. She laid her head against his chest and began to weep softly;
she could, now that it was over, now that he was here, now that her
beloved Mulder was safe, and was holding her. He cradled her in his
embrace, and rocked her slowly, whispering words of love, and the
moon shone down on the two figures on the deck of the ship on the
wide, wide sea. 
 
To Be Continued in Episode Two!