BODY OF EVIDENCE

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

PART IV

Norfolk Island International Airport
November 2
7.50pm.

Since they would be landing in darkness, there was not 
much to see from the windows of their mid-size jet. 
Mulder fell asleep within half an hour of take off, so 
Scully busied herself reading through some of the Norfolk 
Island tourist literature.

The crime scene photos really don't do the place justice, 
she thought.

They landed on an airfield first established by the US 
Navy during World War Two.  The island was an important 
refuelling and supply post to support the allied forces 
driving the Japanese out of the South Pacific.

In fact the road from the airport to the island's only 
town, Burnt Pine was named after General Douglas 
Macarthur.

Captain James Cook first mapped the uninhabited island in 
the 1770s - although there was evidence that Polynesian 
sailors made the island a stopping point. Norfolk was 
then settled by convicts, male and female, deemed too 
violent and irredeemable even for the Sydney penal 
colony.

In the 1850s Queen Victoria offered title to the 
descendents of the now forgiven Bounty Mutineers, known 
as Islanders, after it was determined Pitcairn Island 
could not support its several hundred residents.

Some of its famous, non-islander residents include author 
Colleen McCullough and singer Helen Reddy.

Today, access to the outside world is largely by smaller 
jumbo jets. Norfolk Island is not on the cruise ship 
route, although small private yachts do drop in on their 
way to New Zealand, Australia or the major south Pacific 
islands groups of New Caledonia, Fiji and Vanuatu. 

Many of the island's major goods are supplied by ship but 
have to come in by special tenders, known as lighters. 
Satellite Internet access is available but not 
widespread.

"You'd be surprised by the autonomy of the Norfolk 
Government," said Porter as they made their way out to 
their micro compact hire car.

"A year or so back, a film star was holidaying here but 
the media found out and came in on the next flight. As 
soon as they arrived, the government refused them entry 
as undesirables. And they were ordered back on the next 
flight.

"Priceless," he chuckled.

"With that much authority it could be an easy matter for 
Wendy Millard's killer to simply leave if he or she were 
known to one of the government members," whispered 
Scully, mindful of keeping out of earshot.

Porter raised a finger to his lips.

"Everything has ears here. We'll save the theorising for 
the house."
  	
Mulder and Scully's accommodation was two miles from the 
township, a fibreboard beach holiday home, vintage 1960s, 
that belonged to a lawyer from the mainland who rented it 
out for much of the year.

It was small with only two bedrooms, but it was fully 
self-contained and well provisioned.

Porter explained that he would be staying with senior 
sergeant Steve Thompson and his girlfriend Becky at Burnt 
Pine. Smart casual dress was the accepted on-duty dress 
code here, but firearms were not. They would have to be 
locked at the police station in the morning and would be 
returned before the flight out.

"Settle in folks," invited Porter as drained the last of 
his black coffee. "I'll organise another car tomorrow and 
start with a 9am briefing with Thommo.

"We'll do a tour of island and the crime scene so you can 
get a feel for the place. Dana, I'll introduce you to the 
hospital staff. The chief doctor is also the island's 
surgeon."

Scully nodded and stifled a yawn. 

Yes, a good start in the morning would be best, she 
agreed.

"Mulder, I think you and I should go through the suspect 
list to see if there is any connection to Wendy that 
you've managed to source from her history in San Diego."

"Sounds like a plan. Tomorrow it is then." 


The Highland Fling Cafe
Fern Road
Norfolk Island
9.35pm

The powerfully built man rocked back on his chair as he 
listened to the conversation richochet across the room. 

"I can't say that I'm thrilled about this. We've gone too 
far as it is."

"It's the FBI for godsake. The more people we involve the 
less chance we have of this mess quietly going away."

The front legs landed sharply on the timber floor and all 
other conversation ceased. 

Mike glanced across to those assembled, both seated and 
standing, before turning to the tall shadow who had been 
leaning against one of the posts apart from the group.

"You know them, how they think, what should we do?"

Murray Birch stepped out of the shadow to observe the 
other conspirators - two men and three women.

The discussion had been spirited but the argument had 
been lost. Porter and his FBI colleagues were to be dealt 
with starting tomorrow.

"I don't know how you talked me into this, any of you," 
Murray grumbled. "I'm federal agent for crying out loud.

"Everyone thinks I'm back in Sydney."

"You know why," snapped the older of three women, an 
elegant brunette with fashionably short hair. Murray knew 
her. They went to high school together, although she was 
a couple of years older.

"Our culture is at stake, in fact our entire way of life. 
If this isn't stopped now then it will be more than the 
six of us facing court.

"Do you want an investigation into our sex lives like 
they're planning on Pitcairn? Lives will be ruined and it 
will be just the excuse needed for the Australian 
Government to strip the island of its independence.

"Your parents would never have wanted that."

Murray glowered at her.

"Low blow Sylvie."

The woman sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? But the fact 
remains that you know as much of what going on as the 
rest of us. And you're up to your eyes in it.

"We need to you to help us. If we can use this... this 
gift, this reaction, we can get rid of the police... FBI...
whatever they are and go back to the way things have 
always been."

Mike spoke next. He was slightly older than the others in 
the room and thus was elected leader of sorts. 

"That's the point I'm trying to make here Sylvie," he 
sighed.

"Things stopped being the same when they found Wendy's 
body. Do you really believe the authorities will let go, 
that they'll forget?

"We will always be under suspicion - each and everyone on 
the island who knew her."

"Are you blaming me for dumping Wendy, because I didn't 
see any of you upright citizens helping me that night," 
hissed another man who stood behind Sylvie. 

"No Rob, we've been through this, we're not blaming you," 
said the first man.

"This goes deeper than the death of Wendy Millard. I 
think we can all agree on that. Something is happening to 
us, to the islanders and it's affecting everyone we're in 
intimate contact with.

"We need to control it or contain it, otherwise it really 
will be the end of everything.

"I just don't want to risk further exposure. It increases 
the chances of us getting caught."

"We can do this but you all need to do exactly as I say." 
All eyes turned to Murray.

"We mustn't forget we have a lot of friends here. They 
may suspect that you are all involved in Wendy's death 
but they fear the threat to their... to *our* way of life 
more.

"Although I've only known Porter for as long as we've 
been assigned to this case, I think I know him well 
enough as an investigator. And we've seen how effective 
the gift is.

"Janine said she was impressed, in more ways than one."

Sniggers in the room turned to nervous laughs and the 
tension was broken.

"What about the other two? The Americans?" asked Rob. 

The youngest, a girl in her late teens spoke.

"I was on customs duty tonight and I had a quick look at 
their entry and passport details," she said.

"He's a psychologist like Jack and she's a doctor of some 
kind."

"We need to find out more," said Birch. "If we're going 
to use the gift we're going to have to find out more 
about their background and get into their heads.

"Anyone here know a policeman?" he smiled.


Sea Mist Cottage
Three Mile Road
Norfolk Island
12.57am

Anyone here know a cable guy? If he'd known that was no 
TV, then he wouldn't have signed on for this gig. 

Mulder flicked the TV off in disgust and stretched out on 
the bed as the distinctive sound of the closed-for-the-
night station ID pierced silence.

Norfolk Island had one TV station that produced basic 
local programming, mostly advertisements for the duty 
free shops. After hours it would screen the occasional 
out-of-copyright movies and close promptly at 1am. 
Tonight it had been an Ed Wood film, a classic - Glen Or 
Glenda.

Local residents watched mostly satellite television but 
the cottage's owner didn't spring for that luxury here.

He turned on his side and watched the gentle rise and 
fall of Scully's chest as she slept beside him.

He missed this.

Since being grounded on domestic terrorism they weren't 
on the road as often and he had forgotten how much they'd 
settled into a routine.

Mulder stroke her cheek softly before settling himself 
beside her.

He wasn't sure when it started or who started it. Maybe 
it was her nightmares, his nightmares, exhaustion after a 
day's investigation or a subconscious acknowledgement of 
mutual loneliness - whatever justification fitted the 
day.

They would end up together asleep in one bed until dawn, 
when one or the other would leave.

It was what they did - no awkward examination of feelings 
- just the unspoken acknowledgement that they were halves 
of the same whole.

He wanted that back but Diana had driven a firm wedge 
between them. 

The truth was he wanted them both.

Diana was comfortable and predictable - her unquestioning 
belief in him and his quest, her soft, ready, 
uncomplicated warmth while Scully was uncompromising and 
demanding - she challenged, irritated and excited him to 
the point where he believed his only choice might be to 
either slap her or fuck her.

Diana he could control, compartmentalise, keep away from 
his core but Scully would consume him.


End of part IV



PART V

Seamist Cottage
Norfolk Island
November 3, 5.45am

Scully opened her eyes and breathed deeply. The riot of 
birdcalls roused her from an exceptionally deep sleep. 
She woke up alone, as she always did.

Although not fully light, she could see that the shrubs 
bearing unusual yellow flowers outside the window were 
home to chattering crimson rosellas who were watched 
serenely by a pair of emerald-hued green parrots perched 
higher on trees that bordered the yard.

She smiled at the sight as she opened the sliding glass 
door. Two of the nearest rosellas screeched their 
displeasure at being disturbed at their feeding.

The breeze was tinged with the slight tang of salt, so 
Scully went to investigate, discovering a sandy path at 
the end of the yard.

The journey ended at a tiny sandy beach, bordered by 
rich, chocolate coloured volcanic basalt rocks. To her 
right was one of the small outlying islands she'd read 
about on the flight over. 

The tiny island just a half a mile from Norfolk was 
uninhabited and had been used by early settlers as 
grazing and hunting ground as well as further convict 
punishment. Today human activity was limited to 
government reafforestation programs, and organised 
camping and fishing tours.

Scully picked a place on a rock and fingered a smooth 
round pebble watching the sky change from grey, purple, 
rose, and gold as she thought about last night.

She could almost believe that she and Mulder were back to 
'normal'... well, as normal as they ever got. The closeness 
disappeared after Antarctica, after Diana Fowley was 
appointed to the X-Files.

Despite what Mulder wanted, she in all good conscience 
wouldn't abandon what could be proved, but it didn't mean 
she didn't believe... in him, the work, in what she could 
substantiate to support his beliefs.

Scully threw the pebble back into the sea. 

Maybe Dr Kossoff was right after all, perhaps her life 
was too intertwined with Mulder's, maybe she did need to 
re-establish her own identity as a professional... a 
person... a woman.

Yet last night, as she fell asleep with Mulder beside 
her, she clung to hope that maybe things didn't have to 
change after all.

But it would have to wait until this case was solved. And 
that was a problem, she realised. 

They drift from one case to another and put off talking, 
*really* talking, betting against the house that one or 
the other of them wouldn't be consumed with the graveside 
regret of having words unsaid and feelings unexplored.

But reality, in the here and now, is that a woman was 
dead.

It really would have to wait.

*****
7.45am  

"Coffee's fresh," Mulder pointed with a piece of toast to 
the pot on the stove.

He was in a rare mood, focussed, full of energy, 
travelling at a million miles a minute. 

"I've been through Wendy's background from the San Diego 
field office and there are a couple of leads that I'd 
like to make a start on today," he said between bites.

"Did Jack say what time he was going to pick us up? 
Because I definitely want to check out..." he paused to dig 
out a map that was buried under file notes.

"Cock Pit Falls and possibly the refuse disposal station 
on the western side of the island.

"I'd be interested what you can make out from your 
medical investigation. There's something in the odd DNA 
samples that the original investigators obtained..." 
Mulder stopped as he looked at his partner properly for 
the first time.

"What?" he asked.

Scully stood at the kitchen door, rolling the stem of a 
pink hibiscus flower between her fingers.

She gifted him a smile. 

"Good morning to you, Mulder," she said airly before she 
crossing the kitchen to pour herself a coffee.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise at her 
uncharacteristically flirtatious greeting.

"And a good morning to *you* Ms Scully," he replied, 
doffing an imaginary cap.

"Ahh, it is true after all," Scully acknowledged the 
salutation with an exaggerated nod. "Manners do maketh 
the man."

Mulder good-naturedly tossed a tea towel in response.

Scully caught the cloth with one hand. It should always 
be this easy between us, she thought wistfully.


1.45pm
Cooks Point
Norfolk Island

Mulder and Porter sat on a picnic bench at a park perched 
on the northeastern edge of the island.  The wide-open 
park was bordered by denser rain forest that marched its 
way up to a tall rocky peak, Mt Bates. At 318 metres it 
was a popular climb with adrenaline junkie adventure 
seekers.

After a briefing meeting with Senior Sergeant Steve 
Thompson, which ended in an invitation to dinner, Porter 
had taken the agents on a tour of the island to visit 
'sites of interest' in the case.

Following lunch, Scully taken the second car to the 
hospital to review the DNA and forensic results gathered 
thus far in the investigation into Wendy Millard's death.

Sitting in the dappled shade created by the shadows of 
large Norfolk Island Pines and other rainforest giants, 
the park at Cook's Point was a refreshing contrast to the 
midday heat.

"You weren't kidding about circumnavigating the island in 
an hour and a half," said Mulder. "I've been in traffic 
jams longer than that."

Porter tapped his cigarette lighter on the table.

"I've been copping a lot of flak from my supervisors. 
They were expecting a quick result but they don't 
understand that most of the residents here are related 
through blood or marriage.

"They may have their suspicions but they're not going to 
dob in family.

"It's the reason why I want to confer with you here. If 
we met somewhere in town or even at the police station 
everyone would know our business before we stepped out 
the front door.

"My working theory on Wendy's death is that this is more 
than a crime of passion. In her peer circle, which is 
roughly half the island population, these people have 
more lovers than Elizabeth Taylor has diamonds.

"No one sees anything wrong with that, it's been island 
culture since the Bounty mutiny days. The attitude is 
sexual activity is almost a resource."

"Share and share alike," added Mulder.

"Exactly. I still believe that sex is the reason why 
Wendy was killed but it was because she had been involved 
with someone or knew something that would damage the 
island as a whole.

"If it were an 'ordinary' crime, like drugs or theft she 
could have gone to the police or anyone of the island's 
members of parliament. But she didn't, she wanted to get 
away. She had a one way flight to Brisbane the next day."

Mulder nodded, the reasoning was sound. He could 
appreciate Porter's frustration with the lack of 
progress.

"I think I may have something."

Porter leaned forward with interest. 

"The field office in San Diego started a detailed 
background on Wendy when we were informed of her death. 
According to some of her friends, Wendy had quit her 
travel agent's job after a falling out with new 
management.

"Officially she wasn't working for six months before she 
left the United States to explore the world."

"Prostitution?"

Mulder shook his head and handed over the file.

"The next oldest profession. It seems that Wendy 
subsidised her severance pay by making a number of cheap 
porn flicks under the stage name Randy Wilde."

Porter burst out laughing. Mulder grinned.

"Yeah, well what she lacked in imagination she made up in 
volume - six titles over those six months."

"Yet Wendy travelled across Europe, south-east Asia and 
Australia for nearly 18 months before arriving on Norfolk 
Island," Jack frowned, flipping through some of his own 
notes.

"She would have been just about broke, yet she had enough 
money wit her to satisfy immigration and her 
job application was sponsored by Rabs Warren."

"Rabs? As in Rabbit?"

"Real name is Andrew Peter Warren. His son is Peter 
Andrew Warren, he has a cousin also named Andrew Warren. 
There are another three Warren families on Norfolk, so 
it's accepted Island policy to use nicknames for informal 
identification," Porter explained.

"It based on either a variation on a first or last name, 
looks, personal habits or occupation.

"Warren put an employment ad in an international travel 
magazine. He said he was impressed with Wendy's 
credentials and sponsored her application. We can't find 
any other connection.

"And the guy is 77 - he's not a suspect either."

Mulder made additional notes.

"What do you know about the TV station?"

"It's owned by a husband and wife, Shaun and Clover 
McKenzie. They're nice enough - he was a lawyer and she 
ran a New Age healing centre on the mainland before 
arriving here. They specialise in documentaries 
around the south Pacific. The Island broadcast is more of 
a sideline really."

"Perhaps it's not their only one."

Jack frowned. "Norfolk Island has never come up on our 
radar as a centre for porn production." 

"It's perfect - an independent close-knit community, 
liberal attitudes to sex with a 'don't ask, don't tell' 
philosophy that would make the US military proud.

"Perhaps Wendy was continuing her film career here. We 
should check it out."

Jack shook his head. "Drop me in town, there's something 
else I want to look into first."

Mulder raised his eyebrows in question.

Porter looked away, concentrating on the sound of the 
ocean crashing on rocks 10 metres below them.

"I've got to find that girl... I haven't been able to 
stop thinking about her since that night," he said 
softly.

"I'm going to go back to the sports club and ask the 
staff there, see if they know her, recognise her."

"Have you seen a doctor? Because what you describe 
happening after you had sex is not normal, there might 
have been some residual..."

He was cut off with a shake of the head. "I've been 
thinking about it some more.

"Mulder, I was drunk, upset and angry. Those things 
account for what happened."

"You can't be sure Jack, that's all I'm saying. Scully's 
a doctor, let her run some tests."

"Speaking of Dana, what's the real story with you two?" 
Porter asked, seeing an opening to change the subject. 

"Our relationship is," Mulder paused to capture the right 
word. "Complicated."

"So you two never..."

Mulder shook his head.

"She's an outstanding doctor, a fine investigator and the 
most honest person I know. It's the healthiest 
relationship I've ever had with a woman. 

"I'd be crazy to screw that up."

"Don't give me that sensitive new age guy bullshit. So 
you're telling me you're not attracted to her? Man, I 
wish I had a partner who looked like that."

"I've thought about it," Mulder conceded. "But it's just 
never happened. Perhaps it never will."


Norfolk Island Base Hospital
2.15pm

The Norfolk Island Base Hospital comprised of three 
single storey buildings that sat squat and unassuming two 
streets back from the shopping streets of Burnt Pine.

The hospital was constructed of large painted concrete 
blocks and connected by covered breezeways.

Scully had followed Dr Neil Schofield, Norfolk Island's 
senior doctor along one of these walkways. The doctor was 
deeply tanned and only a few inches taller than Scully. 
And although aged in his mid-40s, he maintained a well-
muscled physique that would do a wrestler proud.

The first building was a clinic, which also doubled as 
the administration and makeshift accident and emergency 
centre. The second was a general ward and labs while the 
third housed maternity and recovery wards. 

Patients requiring intensive or critical care were flown 
by charter jet to either Sydney or Brisbane, explained 
the doctor.

"We're fairly well equipped to handle the basics - 
general illness, injuries, falls, marine stingers, that 
sort of thing," he expounded. 

"If it's critical we can stablise a patient until medivac 
arrives. That's usually in the form of an Royal 
Australian Air Force medical transport plane."

The covered walkways were bordered by gardens filled with 
birds of paradise, hibiscus and gardenias while rolling 
lawns had large fig trees standing like islands out of a 
lush green sea.

Six people, new mothers and their infants, patients in 
recovery as well as hospital staff either strolled across 
the grass or enjoyed the late afternoon on park benches 
located under the larger trees.

It seemed as though those who were ambulatory were all 
outside. 

Scully and Dr Schofield entered the second building and 
walked to the hospital's basic pathology department. 

Scully took a quick glance around. It was as promised - 
well kept but basic. As the doctor said, this hospital 
was designed to give general care.

"I'm presuming Wendy Millard's autopsy wasn't performed 
here?" she asked.

"It was performed in Brisbane. That was the first flight 
off the island," Dr Schofield nodded in affirmation.

"I gave her an external examination when the police 
recovered her body and the cause of death seemed self 
evident.

"I photographed, took swabs and drew blood samples to 
protect what evidence there was, but as you can see we 
are in no position to conduct an autopsy especially one 
sophisticated enough to find meaningful forensic 
evidence.

"They were packed up along with the body for the flight 
back to Brisbane."

Scully nodded. She appreciated that back in Quantico she 
could access some of the most cutting edge equipment in 
the world and draw on the expertise of the best 
technicians.

"Did you know Wendy?"

She was on the receiving end of a mild admonishment.

"Agent Scully, everyone knows everyone here," he said 
blandly.

"Yes, I knew Wendy but not terribly well, she was a good 
15 years younger and mixed more with her peers. She was a 
nice girl, very popular."

Nice, pleasant, friendly - all safe words, mild words 
that Scully had seen cropping up again and again in the 
police interviews with Wendy's friends and associates. 

Scully was becoming convinced that they were euphemisms.


Coral C Productions
2.30pm

'Our office hours are between 10am and 2pm Tuesday, 
Thursday and Friday unless we're on assignment. Have a 
joyous day!', informed the printing on the cheery apricot 
coloured paper taped to the inside of the glass door.

Coral C Productions occupied a house on a rise about a 
mile out of town. Like the name of the company, the two-
storey fibreboard house was a coral hue but the oxidation 
on the siding had caused the pigment to soften further.

Despite being in the right place at the wrong time and 
the wrong day, Mulder checked the door anyway and was 
mildly surprised to discover it unlocked.

The lights were switched off in reception but there was 
enough daylight to make out the photographs on the wall 
of spectacular landscapes or broadly smiling South 
Pacific Islanders. 

Mulder took a step closer to view each one.

There were two people in common in each of the 
photographs - he was in his early 40s, beard, dark brown 
hair curling to his shoulders. She was about the same 
age, her shock of black hair stood out at angles. Shaun 
and Clover McKenzie.

Mulder tried an internal door but found it locked. 
Undeterred he walked around the back noting that all 
windows on the ground floor were boarded up.

The white picket gate groaned softly in protest as Mulder 
opened it. 

He followed a flower border around to an expansive back 
garden to see a nude woman 12 feet away emerge from a 
stone clad swimming pool.

She stretched languorously, brushing her fingers through 
long gold hair.

She was breathtaking. 

The gentle curve of her waist and hips hinted that her 
full breasts were natural. Her skin was a soft tan - all 
of it, no hint of tan lines anywhere. There was no 
telling if she were a natural blonde either.

The Venus saw him and made eye contact quite 
unselfconsciously, making no attempt to cover herself.

"If you're the extra, you're overdressed and if you're 
not, you've just spoiled this take," she called.

So much for the element of surprise, Mulder thought 
ruefully. He held up his badge for the benefit of his 
audience.

He took in the six other people in the yard - two men in 
their 20s stripped to the waist wearing what looked like 
buckskin trousers and shouldering replica muskets while 
at their side was willowy brunette eyeing him with 
unabashed interest. She wore a white cotton bodice 
unbuttoned to the waist with a thin skirt that was 
transparent in direct sunlight.

The other three people were fully dressed. One man with a 
beard shouldered a camera, ayounger man leaned against a 
boom microphone and a woman with wild black hair sat 
cross-legged with a large make-up kit and a TV monitor 
beside her.

"Special Agent Mulder, FBI," he called as he walked over 
to Shaun McKenzie. "I want to talk to you about Wendy 
Millard.

****
Norfolk Island Base Hospital

"This is interesting," remarked Scully as she compared 
the spotted bands of DNA on the light box.

"What is?" Schofield asked. He left his microscope to 
walk over to the bench where Scully had set up her 
research.

"There appears to be a variation here carried on the 
female line and to a greater or lesser degree it's common 
to many of the men who were tested. Had you noticed 
this?"

Dr Schofield smiled. 

"No, the film only came back two days ago. I haven't 
looked at them, but I can solve the mystery Agent Scully. 

"I think you'll find that all of the men who have the 
variation are descendents of the original Bounty 
mutineers. The Polynesians have been intermarrying for 
years without the usual cases of genetic defects showing 
in children."

Scully paused, taking in Dr Schofield's skin colour, 
build and deep brown eyes.

"Like yourself."

He grinned broadly. "Absolutely, I'm a direct descendent 
of one of the crew." 

Leaning in closer, he added more soberly, "But I also 
have an alibi for the night of Wendy's murder in case you 
were wondering."

Hair stood to attention on the back of Scully's neck and 
arms as he stopped just inches away. She could feel his 
breath tickle her cheek. 

Collecting herself, Scully met his gaze head on, despite 
being unsettled by his proximity and annoyance at the 
stab of intimidation she felt.

Scully took a step back to regain some personal space, 
wishing for the first time that she were not unarmed.

"Fine. We'll leave it at that shall we?"

Schofield shrugged and headed towards the door.

"I've got rounds. You can page me if you want anything."

Scully sighed, wiping a hand across her face as she 
turned back to her notes. 

Schofield had answered her question in part, but the 
explanation didn't explain the fact that there was 
something else, a virus, in the blood tests that affected 
all of the men tested, not just the ones born on the 
island.

On a hunch Scully reached for Wendy's file and quickly 
scanned pages until she found the serology findings. The 
technicians had been thorough; no mistakes had been made. 
There, half way down on the third page was the answer 
Scully had hoped to find.

Wendy had the virus too.

Opening a fresh page in her notebook, Scully started 
writing.

'Each test indicates the presence of an unidentified 
virus. It is not known how it was contracted, nor can it 
be determined at this point what purpose it has. 

'It was also found in Wendy Millard but not to the same 
degree as the islanders. Some of the men tested who are 
not islanders but who have lived on the island almost 
exclusively for past three years or longer also show that 
they too have the virus, but not the genetic variations 
found in those descended from the Polynesians.

'It appears well accepted that these islanders have some 
form of genetic immunity to the medical defects found 
with interbreeding. Could this virus play some part in 
this remarkable example of nature's pragmatism?

'This is a medical mystery which may find a conclusion as 
a result of this investigation, however it does not help 
answer the question of who was responsible for Wendy 
Millard's death, nor why she died.

'To answer the second, we must uncover the first. To 
answer the first we must examine the evidence in front of 
us - reason and an intimate knowledge of the human psyche 
- to recognize those who have the means, motive and 
opportunity and then employing science to identify the 
guilty.'

Reclipping her hair in a short ponytail, Scully bent to 
read through the notes that accompanied the information 
on the virus. Frowning, she lifted the DNA film up to the 
light again.

Spreading the results of prime suspects in front of her, 
she methodically compared blood tests with DNA swabs.

After analysing the sixth test result, Scully started to 
formulate a theory. 

What if all of the men had contracted some kind of 
sexually transmitted virus that didn't present with any 
illness but whose sole purpose was to eventually alter 
DNA structure?


End of part V


PART VI

"Dr Scully I presume?" 

"Be right there Mulder," Scully said without looking up, 
absently as she tried to decipher the protein code of the 
virus she had identified

"It's not Mulder." Porter grinned as she looked across 
the bench. Scully blushed as she realised her mistake.

"Sorry, force of habit," she smiled.

Porter shook his head. "Think nothing of it.

"But I did wanted to talk to you alone."

Scully raised her eyebrows in question, inviting him to 
continue.

"Mulder's convinced me that I should talk to a doctor 
about my, er, close encounter," he stated matter-of-
factly.

"I take it he's told you his theory about this alien sex 
cult thing that you've apparently dealt with?"

Scully nodded. "Mulder and I disagree about the specifics 
of the case, but he is right about one thing. You should 
have seen a doctor before this."

"I suppose I should confess - I don't like doctors much. 
No offence," he offered.

She turned physician, scanning the man in front of her 
with a clinical eye. 

"None taken," she smiled. "Just ignore what I'm doing, 
talk to me instead. 

"Now that I've heard about the crazy things you and my 
partner used to get up to, tell me how you met." 

Porter sat patiently as she took his blood pressure and 
temperature while told her about growing up in the steel 
manufacturing city of Newcastle, north of Sydney and his 
mother's struggle to raise him after his father was 
killed in an industrial accident when he was just 14.

He had been an angry and confused young man until a minor 
run in with the police and some timely advice from the 
family priest made him realise the best way to keep his 
father alive was to honour his memory. From there he had 
returned to school becoming the first in the city to 
apply for and be accepted to Oxford.

"That's my story, pretty much," he finished.

"Do you mind if I ask you something Dana?"

"Sure, ask away," she said pulling out a syringe and 
several vials for blood tests.

"Tell me about you and Mulder"

Scully sighed, where to begin, she thought, as she probed 
for a vein on Jack's arm.

"Our relationship is somewhat..."

"...complicated, I got that."

Scully inserted the needle.

"Ouch."



The residence of Steve Thompson and Becky White
7.55pm

She would never look at a night sky the same way again 
Scully vowed as she gazed heavenward. 

The sky was a rich, inky black, untainted by light 
pollution. She'd forgotten that there were so many stars. 

Under her breath Scully rattled off constellations as she 
identified them, although they were upside down. She 
closed her eyes and inhaled the briny freshness of the 
easterly breeze and with a slight pang recalled childhood 
memories when the Scully family would go camping. Her 
father used to tell stories about ancient heroes and 
medieval explorers who navigated using the stars as their 
guide. 

Scully started as she heard her name called. She opened 
her eyes and found herself looking directly into 
Mulder's.

They stood outside the home shared by Steve Thompson - 
Thommo and his girlfriend Becky White.

Mulder smiled indulgently as he reached across to place a 
hand at the small of her back to guide her along the path 
to the front door.

It was a familiar touch, something he did often over the 
years, but somehow tonight it was different. Everything 
was different here. 

No, Scully mentally corrected herself, everything was 
right here. She smiled.

"Beautiful."

Scully turned to Mulder questioningly.

"It's a beautiful night," he whispered.

She couldn't agree more.

Porter opened the door and led them through to an 
expansive timber deck at the rear of the house; climbing 
bougainvillea and its raspberry coloured flowers framed 
the rafters while the light breeze carried the thick 
scent of jasmine from elsewhere in the garden.

"Thommo is cooking his specialty tonight - barbecue," 
grinned Porter, as they made themselves comfortable 
around a large octagonal jarrah wood table.

Steve Thompson stepped through the sliding glass doors 
carrying a large plate of meat. He waved briefly to his 
guests with barbecue tongs as he made his way to the 
grill.  

A woman carrying a tray of salads and bread rolls 
followed Thommo.

"Dana, Mulder, I'd like you to meet my better half 
Becky," he introduced.

Mulder's eyes widened in shock - the blonde at Coral C. 
Recognition flared in Becky's eyes too, but she quickly 
hid it behind a smile as she welcomed Mulder and Scully 
warmly.

Porter had joined Thommo at the barbecue. No one else 
noticed the exchange.

"Can I get you a glass of red or white wine?" she asked.

"Bring 'em both," called Thommo.

"I could use a hand," Becky appealed to Mulder.

He followed her to the kitchen.

"I could say it's nice to see you, but I ready have," 
Mulder intoned as he gathered a corkscrew and wine 
glasses from the bench.

Becky glared at him as she held a bottle of red in one 
hand and a white the other.

"Don't tell anyone, please," she hissed. "No one else 
knows about this - not even Steve.

"I promise I'll tell you everything I know about Wendy, 
but later."

Scully hadn't seen Mulder's face but her investigator's 
experience told her that her partner and this woman had 
met before.

As they returned from the kitchen, she caught Mulder's 
eye. He shook his head briefly - don't ask now.

The evening passed pleasantly, a decent amount of wine 
was consumed and a great number of tall tales were told.

Thommo was an ebullient host and he and Porter competed 
to tell the most outrageous stories.

Scully participated enthusiastically. The two Australians 
reminded her of brothers Bill and Charlie so she matched 
their good-natured banter with a carefree lightness that 
she had not felt in a very long time. 

It was a little sad though, that she couldn't remember 
when she had this much fun. 

Scully tamped down the memory of Dr Kossoff telling her 
that she ought to consider finding a wider circle of 
friends.

As the evening grew later Mulder and Becky slipped away 
from the group unnoticed. They sat on an ornamental 
garden bench just out of sight of the pavilion.

"There is something you need to understand about how 
things are on Norfolk," Becky began softly. "I grew up 
here."

She didn't look at Mulder, instead staring out at the 
garden

"Yes, we have liberal attitudes to sex but we also have a 
very strong code of behaviour. Everything is done with 
discretion. Affairs aren't flaunted and everything that 
happens - threesomes, voyeurism, BDSM - is all 
consensual."

"Did Wendy break the rules?"

Becky sighed and turned to him.

"Wendy... that's say she threw herself into the lifestyle 
here enthusiastically. She'd join us whenever the mood 
took her at Coral C's. She kept her mouth shut about 
*that* but she wasn't very smart when it came to her 
affairs."

"Jealous husband or jealous wife?"

Becky shrugged. "All I know is what Wendy told me - that 
she and her latest lover Rob argued a lot and that it was 
beginning to get physical. Rob's daughter Cherie 
instantly took a dislike to her but Wendy was trying hard 
to win her over."

"Have you spoken to anyone about this, to Thommo, Jack or 
his partner Murray?"

"No, Agent Mulder, I can't. Like I said before, I never 
talk to Steve about what I do or who I meet and he's 
never asked. We both know his job would be in jeopardy if 
the mainland ever found out what I did with the 
McKenzies. 

"I've never told Steve that I knew Wendy as more than 
just someone I saw around the island."

Becky took Mulder's hand and looked him directly in the 
eye. Unshed tears glittered in the dimness of the starlit 
garden.

"I swear to you, Steve and me had nothing to do with 
Wendy's death and we don't know who killed her. I've told 
you everything I know."

Mulder nodded as he processed the information, only 
peripherally aware at first of the prickling across the 
back of his hand and wrist.

"Promise me Agent Mulder," she urged.

Becky continued to gently stroke his arm. The tingling 
hit his groin and his cock twitched in response. Mulder's 
arms and legs felt heavy and his breathing became 
shallow. 

He mustered the rising panic into action as Becky's 
stroke grew bolder, her fingertips travelled up to his 
bicep when he stilled her hand.

She tried to pull her hand away, but Mulder was stronger. 
His eyes bore into hers as his hand remained clamped over 
hers.

"Enough," he murmured. "That's enough."

Porter observed the last part of the exchange from a 
discreet distance away as he took a full drag from his 
cigarette. 

They sat closely, heads bowed conspiratorially and Porter 
certainly didn't miss the way Becky's arm stroked 
Mulder's.

He shook his head briefly.  'I sure hope you know what 
you're getting to mate,' he mused.

After stubbing out the butt, Porter turned to walk back 
to the house. He saw Scully step down from the deck to 
the backyard towards him.

"Have you seen Mulder?" she asked, looking past him into 
the darkened garden.

"We should get going if we're going to get a good start 
in the morning."

Jack reacted quickly, placing his arm across Scully's 
shoulder to turn her around and lead her back to the 
house.

"Yep. Just saw him. He's coming."

****
Becky and Thommo smiled and waved as their guests left 
for the evening.

He kissed her on the cheek softly and again softly, 
closer to her mouth. On the third try, their lips met.

"I'm just going to tidy up outside, then why don't we go 
to bed," he hummed into her ear.

Becky grinned. "I'll see you there, lover."

As Thommo moved out of sight, Becky reached for the phone 
in the hall.

Rapidly dialling a series of numbers, she paused as she 
waited for the other line to pick up.

"Murray? I can't speak for long, but they've gone," she 
whispered urgently.

"So, what did you find out?" he said, matching her tone.

"I tried him tonight. He's particularly vulnerable, but I 
really couldn't tell so much about her, she's quite self-
contained. I don't know about them together though, 
they're close, but not lovers as we thought.

"She seemed to be particularly relaxed in male company 
but I think she'll be put off by the direct approach, so 
tell Mike will you? If she's going to be reached, it will 
have to be indirectly."

"Good work. Keep them distracted for a little while 
longer. I'm working on something that will get them off 
the island for good."

*****

"So that's the theory anyway," explained Scully.

"I don't know if I can narrow down a suspect for Wendy's 
murder from the evidence I've found, but it may begin to 
explain an additional motive as well as the symptoms Jack 
said he experienced.

"The only problem is that we won't be able to get the 
pathology reports back for a few days."

She put her hairbrush down and looked at Mulder through 
the reflection in the mirror. He was lying on her bed 
propped up on his elbow.

"Jack said you were investigating a lead this afternoon. 
Find out anything?"

Mulder shrugged awkwardly.

"Not really. I spoke to someone at the TV station who 
knew Wendy and was pointed to the boyfriend as a 
potential suspect," he yawned rolling onto his back. 

"But that's hardly a surprise. He's already been 
questioned but I'm going to talk to him myself in the 
morning."

He stretched out an arm across the bed to snare the 
remote for the TV. The Wasp Woman opening credits rolled.

"Was it Becky?" Scully tried to keep her voice neutral 
but even to her own ears it sounded like an accusation. 

It was not her imagination that observed the flash of 
recognition when Mulder and Becky were introduced and she 
knew they had disappeared for a time during the evening.

Scully moved to the other side of the bed and lay down 
beside her partner.

"Hmmm?"

"That you spoke to. At the TV station."

"Becky? No, it was a woman called Summer."

Mulder avoided looking at his partner by manufacturing a 
yawn. Conversation over. 

It wasn't exactly a lie and Mulder justified it by 
telling himself that the use of Becky's 'professional' 
name wasn't breaking a confidence nor was it hampering 
the investigation.

He could tell Scully wasn't convinced even without 
looking at her. Skepticism simply radiated from her like 
body heat.

Mulder was irritated that she hadn't accepted his word, 
although the irony of the misplaced emotion wasn't lost 
on him. 

It was irrational to keep the truth from her, this need 
to mete out only bits and pieces on information whenever 
they were on a case.

But was the only thing he could control about their 
relationship and even then he felt he had given Scully 
far too much already.

End part VI