NEW: Isosceles (10, 11, 12/15)
LBoneP
Lisa Pritchard
LBo...@AOL.Com
Isosceles
***All disclaimers from Part 1 apply***
Part X
I hadn t initiated a kiss in a long, long time. I was astonished
by how quickly Mulder and I responded to each other, like long-missing
pieces of a puzzle finally found and snapped into place.
Scully. He pulled his lips from mine and nuzzled against my ear.
Are you flirting with me?
Hell of a concept. I was breathless. Mulder, I--
Shhh. He brought a finger to my lips, tipping my head back.
When the time is right, it won t be like this. He motioned toward the
door. Someone camped right outside our room.
We need to talk. I brought my hand up to the side of his face,
stroking his cheek.
I know. We will. He smiled. But first, we need to get out of
here before the next neighborhood assault team arrives.
I nodded, dropping my hands and taking a shaky step back. What
do you want me to do?
Mulder turned off the lights. Ever seen a porno movie, Scully?
As he filled me in on his plan, I did my best to hide the pink
blush that spread up from my neck to the very roots of my hair.
I emptied my overnight case of everything that wasn t absolutely
necessary and packed his things with mine. I then slid in the notes I d
made, as well as the plastic baggie containing the contact lens, and
zipped the bag closed, handing it to him. Now what?
Phase one. Mulder gestured toward the window. Slide it open
when I give you the signal, he whispered. He stood beside the bed and
placed his hands on the mattress. Rhythmically, he began bouncing his
palms on the bed, knocking the headboard into the wall. He lifted his
head and nodded to me.
I thrust up the sash. The shudder of the uncooperative casing was
neatly masked by Mulder s pseudo sex sounds. Once the window was opened,
I craned my neck around to let him know I d been successful.
Mulder s eyes met mine across the jouncing bed. At the same
moment, the tempo of the rocking bed began to subtly change. He slowed
his hands, inclining his head as if asking a silent question.
The air was sucked from the room in a whoosh of perception.
Instinctively, I knew Mulder was wondering what our lovemaking would sound
like--and anticipating it. Would I call out his name? Drag my
fingernails across his back? My mind reeled with a thousand erotic
images of Mulder as my lover.
A tiny half-smile crossed Mulder s lips. He ducked his chin and
shook his head. Oh, Scully! he mock groaned and stopped moving the bed.
He reached down by his feet and picked up the overnight bag, lightly
tossing it in my direction.
I caught the soft bag just before it hit me full in the face and
brought it down to my chest, then pitched it out the open window.
Mul...der. I feigned a soft, theatrical moan, then climbed onto
the window sill and dropped to the ground, crouching against the side of
the cottage.
Mulder followed seconds behind me. Not seeing either of the
officers assigned to watch the cottage, we darted for the shrubbery.
Stopping to regroup under a huge, spreading hibiscus, I leaned
close to Mulder s ear. Tommy s going to be pissed when he realizes we
bailed out on him.
Mulder was looking back at the building glowing in the moonlight.
Pissed is better than dead.
I nodded. He was right. I squeezed his hand. Where do we go
from here?
Inland. Mulder nodded, slinging the overnight bag across his
shoulder as we crept out from under the bushes.
Mulder, we have to stop.
Just a little further, Scully.
Please.
Mulder stopped and came back to where I was sitting on a fallen
palm tree.
We had been walking for over two hours and were deep into the lush
Bermudan landscape. I was starting to seriously wane. Pushing the hair
out of my eyes, I looked up at him. I m exhausted. I need a break.
He reached out a hand and smoothed my cheek. Me, too. He gave
our surroundings a cursory look then slung the overnight bag off his
shoulder to the ground. We need to rest.
I nodded and slid from my position on top of the fallen tree to
settle my back against it, dropping to the loamy, damp earth.
Mulder gingerly sat down beside me. This trip has given me a new
reason never to use my vacation days.
I smiled tiredly up at him.
Scully?
Hmm? It was all I could muster.
He paused, as if halfway through making a decision, then slowly
shook his head. Nothing.
I brushed my now filthy hands against my thighs. A midnight hike
isn t exactly conducive to in-depth conversation, is it?
I m not sure I even know how to explain it.
I raised an eyebrow. Why do you feel the need to explain
anything?
Because of my ingrained desire to explain any and all phenomenon
in my life. His chagrin was evident, even in the dark.
Is that what we are...a phenomenon?
You are definitely classified as a phenomenon.
I m not so sure I like being in your personal mental filing
cabinet, Mulder. Do I come before or after the human/flukeworm hybrid?
That s what I love about you, Scully. Mulder shook his head.
You slice clean to the bone.
Damn.
The L word.
The smile that had been playing across my lips slowly faded as I
drew my knees up to my chest and I looked away.
Scully?
I didn t respond.
His hand reached out and turned my face toward him. Hey, what s
this?
It s nothing, I lied. How could I tell him that even a casual
mention of the L word sent bittersweet electricity down my spine?
Now s not the time to start holding out on me.
I m not holding out. I forced a smile. I m just tired.
Right.
I looked at him--really looked at him--and knew I had to either
lie again or laugh.
I laughed.
Mulder, you re nuts--and I m nuts by association. You could read
intrigue into the way a person ties their shoes.
Sometimes, there is intrigue in the way a person ties their
shoes.
See what I mean?
He chuckled, pulling me close. The minute you walked into my
life, I knew nothing was ever going to be the same.
And it wasn t--but that had very little to do with me, I yawned,
unable to stop myself. He felt so good next to me, so solid, so safe. I
gave in to my exhaustion and let go of my uncertainty. I was so
bone-weary none of it mattered anymore. I just wanted to rest my head
against his chest and wrap my arms around his middle--and proceeded to do
so.
Mulder settled me more comfortably against him. That s where you
re wrong, Scully. It had everything to do with you. Without you, my
whole world would have been different.
Different doesn t necessarily mean bad.
In my case, it does. He kissed the top of my head. Without
you, I be lost.
I tilted my head up. You want the truth?
Always.
We d both be lost.
He hugged me tighter. Go to sleep, Scully, he hushed, absently
stroking my back. There ll be time enough for us.
God, I hope so, I thought as I burrowed into his warmth and
instantly fell asleep.
Somewhere out in the middle of the damp, Bermudan jungle--on the
ground, without shelter, propped against a palm tree--Mulder and I shared
the best night s sleep either one of us had experienced since...hell, I
didn t know about Mulder, but I couldn t even remember my last good night
s sleep.
The sun was just beginning to filter through the lush foliage as I
stirred, feeling disoriented for a moment until I remembered exactly where
I was. It felt wonderful to awaken in Mulder s arms, as if it were the
only sensible place I should ever be. As I lay there feeling his chest
rise and fall beneath my cheek, I realized for the first time what it
meant to be cherished. The odd part was, I was also filled with the
equally fierce need to protect my protector.
What a mess this had turned into. I was involved with the one
man I had no business being involved with. As I lay there in the early
morning mist, I tried to rationalize why Mulder, why now, and why here.
Unfortunately, there simply were no rational answers. As Mulder so
succinctly put it--sometimes life was a crap shoot. My dilemma lay in
whether or not I was able to accept life on those terms.
While I contemplated the complex multiplicity of my emotions, I
felt a bug crawl up under the cuff of my pant leg. I let go of Mulder to
bat the creeping intruder away.
He jerked awake, his muscles tensing. You okay?
Fine. I tucked the bottoms of my jeans back into the tops of my
cross-trainers. It was just a bug.
He relaxed. It wasn t a cockroach, was it?
I couldn t help but smile. No. No cockroaches.
He tightened his arms around me once more, then was quiet for a
long time.
This is good... isn t it Scully? he murmured into my tangled,
knotted hair.
Yes. I reassured him. This is good, Mulder.
Internally, however, my doubts were almost overwhelming. I held
onto him tightly, not saying anything, not doing anything. For just one
more minute, I wanted to indulge in possessing the treasure I was just
beginning to uncover.
Finally, Mulder stirred. We need to get moving again.
I know. I drew away from him and sat up.
It s time you and I took over this investigation, Agent Scully.
Mulder got to his feet and extended his hand, helping me up.
I couldn t agree more, Agent Mulder. I let go of his hand and
dusted off the seat of my jeans. I m sick of being chased by delusional
stewardesses and a zombiefied local grocers. If we don t figure out who s
behind this, catch them, and hand them to Chief Peters soon, I m going to
get real cranky. I looked down at the dirt encrusting my fingernails.
And if I don t get a shower within the next twelve hours, I m definitely
going to have to shoot someone.
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***All disclaimers from Part 1 apply.***
Part XI
Mulder and I walked for another forty-five minutes before we
stumbled upon a bright white coral road. From our hidden position beside
the track, we considered our options as to how best to proceed.
Both sides will be out looking for us by this time... I lifted
the damp tendrils hair off the back of my neck. ...as your favorite
axiom trust no one takes on yet another incarnation.
And you thought I was a one trick pony. Mulder smiled briefly,
but the underlying seriousness of our situation promptly returned and was
mirrored in his face. Once they pick it up, our trail will be easy to
follow.
In the distance, we heard the high pitched drone of a small
engine. Quickly, we ducked behind a profusely blooming oleander for
cover. Less than a minute later, a scooter darted past us, kicking up a
cloud of powdery white dust. Mulder and I waited until the dust settled,
then tentatively crept out from behind the bush.
That s what we need. I hiked a thumb toward the retreating
sound of the classic Bermudan conveyance.
Mulder nodded in agreement and reached for my hand as we began
walking along the side of the coral road.
Cautiously, we approached a small produce stand about a quarter
mile from where we exited the bush. A wiry old man with skin the color of
rich dark chocolate sat on an overturned barrel beneath a brightly colored
umbrella.
Hello! The man called out and nodded his head. I ve some
fine mangos this mornin . Ripe...juicy. His smile opened into a wide
grin. It s early. I m sure you haven t had your breakfast yet.
Both Mulder and I immediately picked up on his tell-tale
off-center glance and the deliberate movements of his hands. The old man
was blind.
I returned his smile, even though I knew he couldn t see it. Our
scooter broke down about five miles back. Is it possible to rent another
one near here?
The old man rubbed his chin. Anythin is possible, Miss.
That s what I keep telling her. Mulder leaned into me.
The old man slipped off the barrel. D you believe him?
I looked up at Mulder, raising an eyebrow. Sometimes.
The old man selected two perfect mangos and set them aside. You
re a practical one, then? he asked me.
Let s just say I m a little more cautious, perhaps.
It s good t be wary. The man then felt down the rows of fruit.
He chose two oranges and placed them next to the mangos. Women are born
watchful. But men...men can live a lifetime without learning.
I picked up one of the mangos and handed it to Mulder. I rest my
case.
Me? I m the model of discretion.
Right. I nodded. You and Frohike.
Wait a minute--
The old man s bold laugh halted Mulder s rejoinder and resonated
around us. Lovers shouldn t disagree so early in the mornin .
My mouth snapped shut.
Ahh. The old man s grin broadened. Especially new lovers.
Dumbfounded, I reached into my pocket for a fistful of change.
Hearing the rattle of coins, the old man held up his hand and
shook his head. Take them...my gift t the lovers.
How the hell...?
The old man clapped Mulder on the shoulder. My son has a scooter
he might lend out. Turn down the first path t the right. That ll take
you t his house. Tell him I sent you. He pulled out a brown paper sack
and loaded it with the rest of the fruit. He handed the bag to me and
waved us on, his ebony face lit by an expansive, white-toothed smile.
I turned to Mulder when we were out of earshot. An X
File...definitely an X File.
We found the path to the house with ease. The blind man s son
acknowledged that he did indeed have a scooter to lend out. We followed
him as he proceeded to rummage around in a dark shed for several minutes.
Finally, he wheeled out a dusty red Vespa that was thirty years old if it
was a day. We gratefully accepted the scooter and paid the young man
with the last of Mulder s cash.
As we came around the side of the house, I stopped and asked the
blind man s son for directions to St. George s Island.
Mulder eyed me suspiciously, but kept silent.
The young man was quick to reply with simple directions and we
made our way back down the path toward the road.
What was that all about? Mulder asked as we walked down the
sloping path.
Trust me. I smiled.
I do. He nodded. But I still want to know why we re headed
for St. George s Island.
There happens to be a United States naval station on St. George s
Island.
How do you know that?
I reached out to grab a sprig of frangipani that had grown across
the path. I know the location of every naval base in this hemisphere.
I stopped walking and brought the fragrant blossoms to my nose and inhaled
deeply.
Mulder stopped pushing the Vespa and looked at me skeptically.
So...showing up on the doorstep of a naval base is a...good thing?
I let go of the thin branch and it snapped back into place. Who
would you rather trust--the local law enforcement agency, or the United
States government?
Is this a trick question?
I arched my eyebrows.
Mulder sighed. Considering our options, I suppose we would be
safer on the grounds of a naval installation rather than out here in the
open. At least the lunatics will have to sign in at the gate to get at
us.
My thoughts exactly. I slipped around Mulder and continued down
the slight incline.
We reached the road and Mulder swung onto the scooter. Okay, he
grinned. Hop on.
I held up my hand. Have you ever driven one of these?
How hard can it be? He flexed the throttle and squeezed the
hand brakes.
Who was he fooling? Mulder had a hard time riding a bicycle.
I gave him the now patented Skeptical Scully raised eyebrow.
Slide back, Tonto. I d like to get there in one piece.
He stayed where he was, unwilling to give up the drivers seat.
When did you become Easy Rider?
Two brother s, Mulder. At any given time we had motorcycle parts
decorating the living room. I planted my feet, ready for a fight.
He looked ready to give me one--until he realized he had no idea
how to start the ancient thing. Disconcerted, he looked around the
handlebars, then down toward the engine. Ultimately, he slid back and
made room for me in front of him.
Without saying a word, I swung onto the seat then reached down
with my right hand to untuck the kickstarter arm. Confidently, I slid my
right foot onto the lever and pushed down.
The engine sputtered...and died.
Mulder crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat.
Undaunted, I cocked my foot again. This time, I stood up as I
thrust my leg forcefully down on the starter. Thankfully, the engine
coughed once, then roared to life. Without waiting for Mulder to get
prepared, I jerked the scooter into to gear and rocketed forward.
You win, Scully. He murmured beside my ear as his arms
encircled me tightly.
Somehow, I thought losing was the last thing he associated with
his position behind me.
Despite the fact that we were the object of a search by not one,
but two tenacious parties, we did have a few pros to offset the multitude
of cons as we zipped down the cobblestone roads. First of all, like
everything else in the tiny island country, St. George s Island wasn t
far away from where we were. Bermuda encompassed a total area of less
than 21 square miles so, realistically speaking, nothing was far away
from anything in Bermuda. Added to that was the knowledge that it was
high vacation season throughout the islands. That meant the roads were
crowded with lots and lots of other winter visitors--especially
couples--tooling around the islands on rented scooters. As long as we
kept moving, Mulder and I figured we had a fairly decent cover.
I had to admit that, although I never lost sight of the
seriousness of what we were up against, it was undeniably delightful to
have Mulder snug up against my back as we buzzed down the twisting, narrow
lanes of the island. His arms held me securely to his chest, the wind
wildly ruffled my hair, the sea rose and fell beside us, pastel cottages
dotted the verdant, tropical hillsides...
I sighed.
More than once.
This was as far away from the United States Federal Bureau of
Investigation and the J.Edgar Hoover Building as I could possibly
imagine.
It was no wonder then, that it was with mixed feelings that I
drove the little scooter across the last bridge and onto St. George s
Island and then, a short time later, turned passed the sign that informed
us we were now on US Government Property.
As we approached, the lone sentry left his small guard house and
stepped into the middle of the blacktopped road, blocking our entry.
I pulled to a stop just outside the gates and let the engine of
the scooter die. Flipping down the kickstand, I hopped off and
self-consciously ran a hand through my tangled hair.
Can I help you, ma am? The sentry asked, leaning toward me and
looking mistrustfully at Mulder.
We hope so. Mulder slid off the back of the scooter and fished
our ID badges from the overnight bag. We d like to speak to your
commanding officer, he said, handing the seaman our leather wallets.
The guard looked at the photo ID s carefully then, apparently
deciding we were government enough for him, stepped back to the guard
shack. Our commanding officer is Admiral Genty, he said over his
shoulder. His office is at the end of the drive, on the left-hand side.
He flipped a switch and the gates blocking the entrance to the
installation lifted. I ll notify him of your arrival.
Mulder nodded his thanks and pushed the scooter to the other side
of the gates.
Walking side by side, he leaned close to my ear. Safe and sound,
eh, Scully?
I nodded, looking up and returning his smile--but already I was
wistfully trying to recall the wind in my hair, his arms wrapped tightly
around me, and the tangy taste of the sea--and him--on my lips.
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*** All disclaimers in Part 1 apply.***
Part XII
US Naval Installation
St. George s Island, Bermuda
1:35pm
Admiral Genty was old school Navy. Ultra-patriotic, hard-nosed,
tough-talking; the poster boy for career military men.
On the outside.
Getting past the hardened outward demeanor of military men,
however, was second nature to me. Bringing back years of practice with
Ahab, I slid beneath the Admiral s hard-line exterior to get a sense of
who he really was. What became apparent was that, underneath all the
bluster, Admiral Charles Genty was a wise, kind man who thought the US
Government s most important job, after defending the country, of course,
was taking care of its own.
Perfect. As a Navy brat and a Federal Agent, I qualified in
spades.
After introducing myself, I was surprised to discover that he had
had a passing acquaintance with my father. He politely extended his
condolences.
Thank you, sir. I nodded, feeling the familiar blink of grief
at the mention of Ahab s death.
After that, the Admiral got right to the point. But you and
Agent Mulder didn t come here to exchange pleasantries, did you?
I looked at Mulder. He gave me that resolute, boyish smile that
said it was okay--we were in this together. I held his eyes for just a
moment longer. There was so much I wanted to say...
...but I knew I d never get the chance to say anything if we didn
t live through this debacle. Taking a deep breath I launched into a
detailed menology of the events of the last two days.
I know it s out of the ordinary, Admiral, but Agent Mulder and I
could use your help. I shrugged my shoulders closing the debriefing. We
were comfortably seated across the desk from him in his well-appointed
office.
He rose from his chair. You have no idea who is behind these
attacks?
We ve been so busy trying to stay alive, we haven t had a chance
to do any serious investigation. Mulder leaned forward.
So it seems. The Admiral nodded, walking over to the windows
behind his desk. Looking out onto the turquoise sea visible through the
glass, he ran a hand through his silver hair. Chief Peters should be
arriving shortly. I ll suggest to him that you and Agent Scully remain on
base.
Mulder and I stood.
Mulder extended his hand. Thank you, sir.
The Admiral gripped his fingers firmly. We can put you up in
visiting civilian quarters for the time being.
Would it be possible to have access to a computer and a modem,
sir? I asked.
The Admiral gave me a chagrined smile. You re Bill Scully s
daughter, all right. I seem to recall he was a determined bastard.
An empty ache tightened my chest. Yes, he was, I agreed. And
so am I.
Not fifteen minutes later, Chief Peters arrived in a squall of
white-suited-Panama hat-crushing fury. I should throw you both in
prison, he railed. We ve been scouring the islands for hours.
Mulder shrugged his shoulders. We re still alive. You should be
happy.
That s debatable, he glared.
Admiral Genty explained to the Chief that he had assigned us
quarters on the base and that he would take full responsibility for
ensuring we didn t leave the island.
Out of sheer spite, the Chief first refused point blank. Finally,
after a little persuasion by the hard-as-nails persona of the Admiral, the
Chief reluctantly conceded--provided that an officer from his department
was allowed to remained with us. The Admiral saw no problem with the
request and Chief Peters informed us that Tommy would be assigned to us
once more.
Immediately following our meeting with the Admiral, Mulder and I
were shown to a small, three bedroom guest bungalow overlooking the beach.
It was a lovely spot, well removed from the confusing bustle of the base
proper.
Gotta love this, eh, Scully? Mulder nodded toward the pounding
surf as we walked up the sidewalk. Our US tax dollars at work.
Beats the Motel 6 on the back side of Baltimore, Mulder, I
quipped, pushing open the door and stepping inside.
Mulder slung our overnight bag to the floor and flopped down on a
couch in the sitting area.
I m headed for the shower. I said over my shoulder, intent on
scrubbing off mango juice and road grime, not the least bit interested in
exploring the rest of our utilitarian quarters.
Mulder nodded, then pulled the overnight bag across the floor to
him. Unzipping the main pocket, he pulled out my notes. Good idea. I m
going to go over your notes and try to get up to speed.
Having every intention of taking a quick shower then joining
Mulder in the sitting room, I pushed open the bathroom door...and stopped
dead in my tracks.
A deep, old-fashioned clawfoot bathtub sat in the middle of the
floor.
Bath....long, hot, soaking, scented...bath...oh, yes.
I closed the door behind me and searched around the functional
little room. Pulling open drawer after drawer like a maniac, I nearly
cried out with joy when I found what I had been searching for: soap,
shampoo, and--hallelujah!--bathsalts.
I turned the tap way past warm to hot and began filling the
deep tub. After dumping in essentially the entire box of bathsalts, the
water turned a milky, opaque pink. Steam began to rise a few minutes
later as I stripped off my filthy clothes.
With the water as near to the top of the tub as possible without
spilling over, I turned off the tap and eased my body into the pearly
liquid, sinking up to my chin in the delicately scented water. Gingerly,
I flexed my calves and arched my back, trying to ease my tight, tired
muscles, then, languidly, I ducked under the water and lifted my chin,
slicking my hair back away from my face.
Wonderful...I mused...absolutely wonderful.
I had been luxuriating for about twenty minutes before there was a
knock at the door.
Scully?
I sat up out of the water, then quickly sank back down again,
covering my breasts. Yes?
Are you okay? I didn t hear the shower running.
I m fine, Mulder, I called through the closed door.
Oh.
Silence.
Scully?
Yes?
Slowly, the door opened. There he stood, leaning against the door
jamb, looking every bit as if he belonged there. Need any help? He
asked quietly, shyly giving me his best quirky smile.
Mulder... I warned.
Scully, he retorted in a whisper.
My heart stopped as he straightened. Reaching down for the hem of
his Knicks T-shirt, he pulled it off over his head. I thought you might
be getting lonely.
I-I m not lonely. I stammered, my eyes following his hands as
he tossed his shirt atop my own discarded clothing.
I am, he murmured, taking a step into the room. Idly, he sat
down on the edge of the tub and reached across my body to ease the wash
rag out of my nerveless fingers. You missed a spot. He dipped the
cloth into the water beside me then lifted it to my neck, squeezing,
letting the water sluice down my back. Feel good?
Ummm, I mumbled incoherently. I couldn t form an actual word if
my life depended on it.
He repeated the action again, and again, and again.
I dropped my head forward, feeling the muscles in my neck unknot
and loosen as Mulder drenched warm water over them. He immersed the cloth
again and lifted once more.
I straightened slightly, anticipating the warm rush of fluid, but
instead of allowing the water to flow along my spine, Mulder reached his
hand slightly forward before he squeezed. The scented water ran down the
front of my shoulders and between my half-hidden breasts.
I drew in a sharp, unsteady breath that caused ripples to spread
in rings around me. Nothing should feel this good, I sighed.
Lots of things should feel this good, Scully. He bent down and
kissed the top of my head. Lots of things feel better. He stood,
handing me the washcloth. Without another word, he picked up his jersey
and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
I sat gaping at the closed door for a long time, the water cooling
around me. Staring down at the washcloth in my hands, I shook my head.
Now what?
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