TITLE: The Confessions of Sirius, part one DISCLAIMER: NO infringement on anyone's copyrights is intended. FEEDBACK: Appreciated and answered: BastBlack@aol.com SPOILERS: Fresh Bones ARCHIVE: Ok. Just let me know RATING: PG CATEGORY: X, S, A EPISODE DIALOGUE 1013 writers Chris Carter, Vince Gilligan For the interactive version of this story go to: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dimension/4219/sirius1.html COMMENTS: My heartfelt gratitude to my editors: Suzanne aka Cavale & Mary Greten from the Beta Readers Circle. I would also like to thank: Alexa, Baron, Beth, Carol, Dahlak, Debbie, Don, Emily, Janene, Joanie, Jody, Joy, Julie, Karen, Kathy, Kirsten, Kim, Laurie, Lore, Lynn, Mike, Mo, Nacy, Ophelia, Peter, Rana, reeT, Renee, Roni, Rosen, Sabrina, Terisa, Tina, Victor, Vyper and Watcher. Many thanks to Chris Carter, David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, Darin Morgan, Vince Gilligan, and all the talented people behind the X-Files. You guys not only entertain, you inspire. SUMMARY: What if you awoke one day to find yourself in another place and in another time, yet where everything seemed strangely familiar? Would you believe someone was playing a trick on you, or would you believe dreams are the answers to questions unasked? Well, if your name happens to be Fox Mulder you would. And Truth is on his side. THE CONFESSION OF SIRIUS: part one. (c) 1999 by Bast Black ============================================== This tale begins immediately after Quagmire X1 Sleepwalk ---------------------------------------------- FBI Headquarters, Washington D.C. 12 pm, May 9. 1996 Mulder's attached note on X-File 3X22/5 THE DREAM JOURNAL **************************************** Scully, If the truth can be found and lost somewhere between reality and dreams, then maybe I should quit my day job and dream my way onto the New York Times' worst sellers list. I found it unsettling to wake up in the hospital and discover this journal tucked below my chin, the pen still in my hand and having no recollection of ever having written it. Perhaps, I am suffering from a rare sleep disorder or Alien Hand Syndrome. I even considered that this journal is part of a conspiracy determined to confuse me, and whomever is responsible did a damn fine job at that. But one thing I am certain of Scully, is that my hand ached as if I had been writing tirelessly through the night. Scratched on the cover of this "dream journal" was the title, 'The Confession of Sirius,' and below it were several hieroglyphic symbols. An expert over at the Smithsonian translated it as: 'Amk Sab henu Anpu Sekhem-empet tena' i.e. 'Decomposing Fox praises Puppy The Power In The Heavens?' I think 'Puppy The Power In The Heavens' is a merely cartouche title for Sirius, the Dog Star, and it shouldn't be taken literally, no more than one should interpret my name to mean 'Decomposing Fox.' I took the journal to the FBI's Forensic Graphology division and had the drawings on the cover compared to the writing contained within it. The handwriting was a positive match. I provided a sample of my own handwriting for comparison and it was also a positive match. That doesn't prove anything other than, yes, I wrote in my sleep (or I forgot penning this nocturnal tale) and I can make nonsensical Hieroglyphic sentences with my eyes closed. No matter how the journal was created, this tale began on an investigation that had a special significance for me, not because of the crime, but because of its implications. Finally, here was my chance to solve a personal mystery - the original inspiration that delivered me to my cause, the X-Files. What I found is more than I could have imagined and more than I could admit to you. So here I am, at the conclusion of this tale, locked in a cycle with no beginning and no end searching for the elusive evidence to prove that I'm not deluded, that my memories (and in this case, dreams) are real, that Fae's story is real and that greater forces are at work behind the scenes. One of the most promising leads I have so far is a note added to the back cover, almost like an after thought, 'She talks in her sleep.' Assuming 'she' means you, Scully, I had the Gunmen bug both our apartments, run wire taps and record all of our cell phone conversations. I knew you would be furious, that you would tell me I'm acting crazy and that I'm suffering from brain damage due to the accident. And maybe I am crazy which is the reason I need to know the truth. I hope you can forgive me. **************************************** AUTHOR'S NOTE: The rest of this story is the actual contents of Mulder's Dream Journal X2 Dream A Little Dream Of Me ---------------------------------------------- Route One, Louisiana 5:30 am, May 6, 1996 **************************************** THE CONFESSION OF SIRIUS Amk Sab henu Anpu Sekhem-empet tena **************************************** Manu, Kemet Pre-dawn, 3rd month of Shemu, Day 6, 3010 B.C. A dry wind suddenly blasted down the mountain. Salt and sand brushed against me and my hair whipped wildly in the air. The sky had begun to pale and I looked out across the valley for signs of life. There were no snorts of oxen or the shouting of men. The only sound I heard was that of the wind whistling in the entrance of the cave behind me. None of the farmers had taken advantage of the cooler night air. The fields were barren. The canals were dry and the land had withered from hunger and thirst. Another blast of wind blew past me and my gaze shifted upward to the heavens. I was impatient as I watched for the sign. Seventy nights had already passed and it was time to complete the process I had begun. All the pieces of my slain father had been found and prepared, save one. I thought it was cruel to deny him procreation, but I could wait no longer. I know now that it was the will of a higher power, because nature obeys rules even when it seems none exist. I was young then and I wanted to believe I could defy the laws that govern the physical world. Most stars had now faded from the warming sky and only the brightest among them remained. And then it happened - the miracle I had been waiting for. Sirius, the brightest of the evening stars, shone brilliantly, stubbornly refusing to be obliterated by Ra, even as the sun climbed past the horizon. Inundation begins. This was the reason I had selected this day, its symbolic meaning was clear. It was only once every spring, just before the breaking dawn that Sirius' radiance would appear. It was an occurrence that served as a warning to the coming flood, and it would be in those silt rich waters that the golden valley of the Nile would be resurrected in an ageless cycle of birth from death. I took a deep breath and hovered at the edge of the cliff, absorbing the quiet glory of this moment. Destiny had called me to her this day. If I were successful, everything would change. Pain and suffering would die and in its place a new world, one without use for a word like "oblivion", would be born. "Sheu," I whispered, and my prayer and the words were carried away like the grains of sand on the parched wind. I quickly grabbed a torch and descended into Manu, my mountain laboratory, to gather the ingredients of my dreams. The torch light flickered into the cavern, casting eerie shadows on the limestone walls. I proceeded forward cautiously, my eyes on constant alert for any venomous creature that might have slithered inside, seeking shelter from the oppressive heat. "Anpu. Stop," a female voice commanded. "Ma'at?" When I turned around to face her, I was indulged in a vision of timeless beauty. Ma'at looked radiant in the flickering light. Her liquid eyes reflected the amber glow. She wore a delicate ostrich plume in her hair and a long exacting tunic which conformed to her body elegantly and flattered her in a rich array of reds. Ma'at was a regal lady who was as composed as she was authoritative, the perfect balance to my more fanciful nature. Though she was everything I desired in a mate, she belonged to another man; a fact that tortured me I when I stood by her side day after day in the Great Hall of Judgement. She was the perfect symbol of unobtainable goals. Her name meant "Truth," and was therefore interchangeable with my dreams. They too seemed impossible. "I need to talk to you," she whispered in a rare moment of nervousness as if I were guilty of being some kind of illicit lover. "Are you afraid to be seen with me, Ma'at?" I purposefully stood close to her, and I could immediately sense her discomfort. She gave me a stern look that warned this was no time for my misguided flirtations. I backed down respectful of her wishes. "I am not your corrupter, Ma'at," I said softly. "I am your complement, possessing qualities you lack." She refused to respond her expression set in stone. I allowed my gaze to shift from her to the sunrise outside. "The Pharaoh is waiting." "You cannot undo the evil that has been done." "I can and I will." I turned away from her, determined to carry out my mission. "Nature will punish those who go against it!" she warned, as she blocked my path. "I too wish this tragedy was erased, but madness is the true reward for those who court immortality." She lowered her voice to a soothing tone and slipped her hand into mine. "Please, Anpu. Together we can bring Seth to justice for his crimes." I brushed past her not wanting to be delayed. The echo of her footsteps followed me and I quickened my pace in response. "I am tired of justice. I am tired of choosing who lives and who dies. I want the remedy! I want the cure! What I desire is the end to all suffering!" "What you desire is oblivion!" I stopped abruptly to continue arguing with her and she crashed into me. Her soft figure pressed against me in an improper manner that should have compelled me to retreat, but I resisted the thought. I pulled her closer as if she were mine to hold and mine alone to love. I breathed into her ear the words most sacred to me: "Ma'at -- Xeru." Her confused blue eyes looked back me full of hesitation and something else I could not identify. Another time I would have been tempted to forget my purpose and linger here to explore her emotions further but not today. "Shenu ankh exists! I will prove it and Osiris will rise from the dead!" I called back to her as I hurried down the chamber. She chased after me. "Idealistic fool!" "The only fool here," I shouted back at her, "is the one who denies her true feelings!" "What am I to do with you!" I stopped in front of my lab and hoped that fortune would visit me twice this day. "You can kiss me for luck." I closed my eyes and leaned down to her. Did she know my conviction would falter without her consent? "Be careful, Anpu," she whispered to me and placed the jackal headdress over my head. "Selqet, Ma'at." She suddenly yelled and shook me violently. "Mulder. Wake up!" I felt the sensation of flying through the air and water bubbling up around me. "What?" I asked in a daze. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!" I cracked open an eyelid to see not the torn Ma'at, but an amused Scully framed against the blue sky in the car window. I cracked a crooked grin. "Not until I get a kiss, Princess Charming." She shot me a scornful glance. My legs knocked into hers as I yawned and stretched while untangling myself from the seat belt. "Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep on you." I rubbed the soreness in my neck. "Hey, uh, how long was I out?" "Long enough for me to learn that you talk in your sleep." Uh-oh. "Hey, Scully," I murmured as I squirmed, "I didn't say anything that would make you, er, uncomfortable, did I?" She smiled like the cat who caught the mouse, but then her professional mask was again quickly put in place. "What is it about a rape case that appeals to you so much that you have to drag me on short notice to the remote swamps of Louisiana?" I snuck a quick glance out the window before answering. A sign reading "Canopus 100" passed by us. We were 135 miles away from Canopus last night. I turned around to read a sign heading north: "New Orleans 45" I smiled to myself. Unless Scully drove in circles throughout the night, she too must have fallen asleep and pulled off the road. I gave her my own cat who caught the mouse grin. "That's for me to know and you to find out." X3 Let's Call The Whole Thing Off ---------------------------------------------- Canopus, Louisiana 5 pm, May 6 "I can't believe I let you talk me into this investigation, Mulder! And that girl... that girl belongs in a psychiatric hospital!" Scully burst out of the decaying Canopus police station in a whirlwind of fury. I made a hasty apology to the victim and asked the bewildered sheriff to drive Dr. Broussand back to Houma. As soon as he agreed, I quickly excused myself and joined Scully outside with a thinly concealed smile written across my lips. Her anger has an adorable quality I find irresistible. I mean, I know the "Don't fuck with me, Mulder" face when I see it, but curious onlookers were gathering. It wasn't everyday that a buzzing metropolis this size got to watch two federal agents bicker. I took a chance by pulling this red headed spitfire off to the side and continuing my argument, but this was an important case. Time for the old Mulder charm. It worked most of the time: reel Scully in close, a little too close for a professional relationship, and talk to her in a hushed tone that most people reserve for a lover. "You don't think anything *odd* happened to her?" "Something 'odd' happened to her alright," she replied, "but this isn't a case of The Entity, Mulder -- more like incest. It's not uncommon for a victim of sexual molestation to disassociate or invent an elaborate story to explain away their trauma, especially if the attacker is someone they know, someone they have to deal with daily, like a family member. Alien abduction stories are a common fabrication. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" "What are you implying, Agent Scully?" "That the hypnotist was leading her, and that you are encouraging this confused young woman's delusion. She has no credibility, Mulder. She changes her testimony each time we interrogate her. I'm not going to ask for the arrest warrant of a..." she flipped open her notepad, "a dark cloud with red glowing eyes and," she cleared her throat "...another distinguishing feature." I grinned playfully at Scully. "I believe her exact words were, and correct me if I'm wrong, 'a whale of a penis'. " She snapped her notepad shut in contempt before grilling me further. "What that girl needs is counseling. And do me a favor, make yourself an appointment too while you're at it, Mr. Pull-Over Quick-Scully-I-Just-Saw-Big-Blue-Oh-No-Look Out-Boom-Crash." This wasn't the normal Home-team verses Away- team spat. No, this was getting personal. "If the brother attacked her than why does he have an alibi? Ms. All-I-Saw-Was-A-Really-Really-Really Big-Wave." "It's a lie, Mulder," her gaze briefly shifted from me. "Kids lie, especially frightened ones." "I know the girl's brother is lying, but for what reason is he lying?" "No, not the brother. It's his friend who's lying, trying to protect him by providing an alibi." I shook my head no. "Mulder!" She threw her arms up in the air. "It's clear enough what's going on here. The boy raped his sister and she made up this incubus story because she couldn't deal with it. We have the boy's confession. Can we go now?" "We have the brother's confession, yes, but not a *full* confession. Everyone passed the polygraph except for him. His friend isn't lying. Neither is Lupie. She's not deluded, she just doesn't know what really happened to her. How could she? She was asleep." I did a little dance for Scully. "I have a theory..." I paused for effect, "about the Incubi." "By all means. Stun me with your amazing insight." She folded her arms across her chest. "I believe the Incubi are a race descended from an ancient people who had unusual gifts, and for those distinctions they were demonized and slaughtered over a period of thousands of years. Perhaps there are a few still out there, struggling to survive. I believe that boy is one of them, acting on the desperate instinct to continue the species. That's why we should take him to the MAYO and conduct some tests at the sleep clinic there. Just think about the possibilities, Scully. A race of people with the ability to see into the subconscious mind." "Subconscious, my ass." She rolled her eyes. "The incubus was a scapegoat created in a repressed age to rationalize the nature of wet dreams." "I love it when you talk dirty." "Even if what you are saying is remotely possible, which I sincerely doubt, the lack of diversity in a genetic pool as small as one family virtually guarantees extinction. If you want to run some tests -just to be sure--okay, fine, whatever. But Mulder, you're going to be disappointed. You know as well as I do that polygraphs are unreliable and inadmissible in court. That girl was lying to you. She was telling you exactly what you wanted to hear." Scully paused, as if what I had just said earlier was only now registering. "Lupie? You're calling her Lupie? What is that, some kind of pet name?" "Hey." I shrugged. "Whatever makes her comfortable." "Comfortable? Mulder! She was flirting with you." Scully marched toward our dark green Ford Crown Victoria. I chased after her, stopping her retreat with a hand to her shoulder. She noticed the keys were missing from her coat, and she turned to favor me with a cold glare. This case wasn't any more or less controversial than our other cases, but crimes against women are a sensitive area for her. I should have been more careful, but she was overreacting and it made me push harder. "Come on, Scully, it's not like we haven't seen this before. Remember Hal Arden? Excelsius Dei Convalescent Home?" "Yes, as I recall, you said that it was a huge waste of time to investigate an X-File on entity rape. You called it 'unsubstantiated phenomena.' Why the sudden change of heart?" I couldn't tell Scully my real reason for wanting this case. This X-File was only superficially similar to the Excelsius incident. I had been looking for a spook with this modus operandi ever since I left profiling in the Violent Crimes Unit. "This is different. The attack happened during a dream." She raised an eyebrow. "Then you explain to me how a 140 pound, five foot nine teenager got into a windowless room? All doors locked from the inside. Not a trace of finger prints. Not even a hair..." "Keys," she demanded with her hand held out. "I need to interrogate the boy one more time." "I'm getting tired of 'one more time', Mulder. Why do you want to believe in the Incubi so badly that you'll overlook the fact that there isn't a shred of proof?" Her eyes narrowed, growing suspicious. "Is there something you're not telling me?" "Okay, okay. Forget about my theory. Let's just pretend this is a new X-File and let's start over. At the very least we may be able to turn up some evidence that could get the District Attorney to evaluate the case. Spooky theory or not, this girl needs justice." The crime was over 36 hours old. Chances were slim that any evidence was still left on the victim. Or should I say, in the victim? Scully was listening, so I figured now was the time to hit her up with a favor. "I want you perform a forensic examination on the girl." "Sheriff Loman already had one done." Scully handed me test results from inside the car. "There's nothing here, Mulder." "Yeah, but Slick Willy didn't know what to tell them to look for." I gave her my best sad puppy dog eyes. "Scully, you're not indulging me. You're looking for sufficient evidence for prosecution." "No. I'm looking for the car keys that mysteriously disappeared." She opened the glove box. I quickly slammed it shut. "I want you to look for any signs of...." "Your lack of sensitivity is appalling." She stood up and pointed back to the sheriff's office. "These are real people, Mulder! Not fuel for jokes. Not sign posts on the roadside of your quest." She sighed in frustration, and her gaze flitted from me briefly to reflect on our surroundings. "L'aissez les bons temps rouler, ma chere! I've always wanted to rough it in the bayou." I winked at her before taking my own survey in the warm light of the setting sun. To the left was a decaying wooden cottage on the edge of an alligator-infested swamp, a "FOR RENT" sign painted in crude letters on a well-worn shutter. To the right was a shabby makeshift police station that also doubled as the local fish market. It appeared that these were the most luxurious accommodations for miles. "I'll go rent us that plush riverside condo while you setup for the exam. Hey, maybe we can catch crawfish off the back porch for dinner." I paused and then lowered my voice. "It looks like a single. I'll sleep on the floor, unless you're feeling generous and want to share the bed with me. I have to warn you, though; I've been known to act out my dreams on hot sticky nights." I tried not to smile at her. I knew she already hated me enough for stealing the keys to the only available car in town. She swatted a mosquito on her arm, anger leaking into her voice. "Mulder, this isn't even our jurisdiction! Why am I listening to you?" "Because I'm right." I reached around her to grab my duffle bag out of the car. I tried to look nonchalant as I walked toward the police station, that I was only carrying an ordinary duffle bag full of ordinary things. Scully had no idea of the priceless treasure I had carefully tucked inside. "Fox!" a girl's voice shouted. Lupie bounced out of the police station and ran in my direction. I couldn't help a slight smile as she beamed at me. She was a cute uninhibited teenager who, judging by her fashion sense, had seen too many Gothic movies. "You're so fucking cool!" She jumped up, threw her arms around me and kissed me. "None of those dickwads would listen to me, but not you. You're no dickwad." I discreetly removed her arms. I didn't need to look over at Scully to feel her condemnations burning into me. "Lupie, I need for you to have another examination." "No one touches me!" she cried, shrinking away. "I know what I'm asking for is difficult, but I need proof to back up your story. Special Agent Scully will..." "I don't like her. She's a fucking bitch." "She is not a bitch!" I snapped back, before realizing that I shouldn't have raised my voice. I hope Scully didn't hear that. I gave Lupie a stern look. "Agent Scully is the best forensic pathologist I know. If there's proof, she'll find it, despite what she does or doesn't believe. You can trust her." "I heard what she said," she sneered. "Why do you let her talk to you like that? I'd punch her fucking lights out!" I coughed loudly and shuffled Lupie out of Scully's earshot. "Will you let her examine you?" Lupie kicked the dirt. "Do I have to?" "If you want to prosecute your brother, you should." She looked over at Scully, who was leaning against the car tapping her foot. "She's pretty," Lupie sighed unexpectedly. For a tough kid, Lupie possessed a certain vulnerability. "I used to think I was pretty, but after, you know, after..." She looked back at the ground, her long silky black hair falling into her face. Her posture suddenly stiffened. She grabbed a couple of rocks at her feet and started to hurl them at the window of the police station where her brother was in custody. "You fucking prick! I hate you! You're lucky you're locked up in there!" I grabbed her wrists, stopping her from throwing any more rocks. "Settle down, Lupie." She struggled against me, trying to free herself before the fight worked its way out of her. Her eyes welled up as she gave in. "You think I'm beautiful, don't you, Agent Mulder?" I looked at her in sympathy, not having the right words. She was indeed a very pretty girl underneath all that make-up, attitude and bad fashion. "I'm scared. During the last examination, when they brought out that thing... and it was cold and, and... all I could think about were those evil glowing eyes and... I..." Her voice trailed off. I knelt down to the ground beside her and straightened out her hair. "Lupie, I know this is painful. I want to help you, but you have to help me first." She reached for my hand and squeezed it. "Okay, but on one condition." "Anything." I could feel her trembling. "You have to hold my hand." I gently lifted her head up. "Scully and I will take good care of you, Lupie." X4 The Hot and Sticky Blues ---------------------------------------------- The Canopus Motel 5:50 pm, May 6 With my carefully guarded duffle bag in tow, I purposely burst into the dusty closet we're about to call home for the night making as much noise as possible. Despite my efforts, I couldn't provoke the slightest acknowledgement from Scully. She was sitting on the edge of the bed like an abandoned rag doll, staring blankly at the cheap plastic wood paneling on the walls. "How are the accommodations here at De Nulle Part Auberge?" I joked, in a feeble attempt to cheer her up as I dropped my bag on the floor. This room was too small for both of us. Hell, it was too small for one person. Even the bed was wedged in tightly between the walls. There was no way to reach the other side of the room without going over it. "Look what I got, Scully!" I held up a hideous wire contraption for her approval. "Willy loaned me a trap!" I happily bounced on the bed and crawled over her to reach the back door. She continued to ignore me. "Looks like we can catch crawfish off the porch after all." Scully finally stirred. "Fox? You let her call you Fox?" She turned towards me and stared as if she didn't know who I was anymore. I flopped next to her and played with the crawfish trap. She suddenly grabbed my arm. "Mulder! What happened to your wrist?" I yanked my arm from her. "It's nothing, just a scratch." I had forgotten all about it. It had happened earlier in the day up at Lupie's place while we were surveying the crime scene. The dog was merely being playful. It was only a small bite. No harm done. "Let me take a look at it." I shrugged her off. "I'll catch us dinner while you set up for the test." Scully was silent for a while, before she spoke again. "Mulder, you said this would be a quick trip. You said we would be here one day. Skinner doesn't know we're out here and we have to be back in DC tomorrow." "You know how to work this thing?" I rattled the trap. She shook her head no and rethought her strategy. "Let me take you to get that bite looked at." I gave up on the trap and threw it out the back door. "You're right. Who needs fish?" I laid down on the bed in front of her. The mattress wheezed as the air rushed out. She coughed and waved away the dust. "Just smell that sultry night air, Scully" I spread out across the entire length of the bed allowing my legs to hang over its edges as I closed my eyes and deeply inhaled the rich aroma. "Makes you feel good, doesn't it? Makes you feel warm all over!" I rolled over and gave her an impish grin as I struck a subtly seductive pose. A spring popped out of the mattress and I quickly moved my leg over it, hoping she didn't see it. She took one look at me and whimpered. "Hey, let me know when you're done setting up for the examination." I kicked off my shoes and loosened my tie. "You'll need my expertise on this one, Scully." Her mouth opened to protest, but I cut her off. "Lupie doesn't trust you. She wants me to hold her hand." Scully expelled a frustrated breath. "That's it! I've had it." She suddenly jumped on top of me. "Scully!" She shoved her hands into my trouser pockets. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. "Ooooo... Be gentle with me," I squirmed as she fished around, tickling me in delightful ways. "Call me a bitch," she mumbled under her breath and withdrew the car keys. I gave her a sly grin. "If I steal the room keys, will you promise to search me again, G-Woman?" She kneed me in the groin and stormed out of the room. "Asshole!" I doubled over in pain and fell to the floor. "Scully," I squeaked. "Scully!" I wobbled out of the room and limped after her in my socks. "Something happened to that girl, Scully! Something strange, and I'm going to find out what it was. With or without your help!" She jumped into the car. I grabbed the car door to prevent her escape. I knew she wouldn't close it on my hand. A quick warning glare flashed at me and I barely got my hand out in time before the door slammed shut. She peeled out, spewing a cloud of dust over me, making me gag in her wake. X5 Smoke Gets in Your Eyes ---------------------------------------------- Route One, Louisiana 6:30 pm, May 6 My socks provided no protection from the rocks and sand spurs that cut into my feet as I ran after the car. There was no way I could catch Scully. I hoped she would be satisfied with my suffering on this brutal chase and come back. She wouldn't leave me, would she? Not now. Not like this. Not on the verge of an important discovery. She was part of the equation. I stopped, catching my breath in the middle of the weed-covered road and watched as the car headlights faded in the distance. The sky had deepened to a morose purple. There were no street lights in the swamp and my flashlight was in the car with Scully. I would have to find my way back to town in the dark. I pulled out my cellular phone and prayed it would reach her. "Scully!" I panted. She hung up. I tried again. "Scully, will you please talk to me?" Click. I redialed. "Scully. Come on. This is important! You have to do the examination!" "You don't know when to stop, do you, Dr. Frankenstein?" She hung up. I called back. "Scully, what the hell is wrong with you?" "Me? What the hell is wrong with *you*?" "There's nothing wrong with me." She was quiet for a minute. "Why is it always about what you want, Mulder? Why can't I choose a case worth investigating? A case as mundane as... *fraud*?" I resented the way she said "fraud." "I think you just look for things to support your megalomaniacal delusions, taking only cases that prove your theories. Anything that doesn't fit, you conveniently ignore," she ranted. Megalomaniacal delusions? I didn't care about what other people thought, but Scully was different. I respected her opinion, which was why her bitter words stung. She had gotten too close. I had given her too much power over me. "You want reassignment? Fine. I'll call Skinner right now." It was deadly quiet. I couldn't even hear her breathing, only car-related static. "Did you hear me? I said if you want off the X-Files..." "You know, I just realized something," she interrupted. "I think you're interested in this case because it appeals to you, turns you on. An evil spirit sexually manipulating a woman while she's helpless. It's the ultimate safe sex, isn't it? Never having to get your hands dirty. Toying with the emotions of others like it's some kind of game, while keeping yourself closed off at a safe distance. I think you were an imp in another lifetime!" Then she corrected herself, "An incubus." "If I was an incubus," I snapped, "you worked for the Inquisition. You get off on inflicting pain on others, burning people at the stake you can't neatly define, classify, or categorize, never questioning what's dictated to you, because if you did, then you would have to make a choice. So if the church says it's okay to murder witches and werewolves, then you'll just to stand back and pretend it isn't happening." She screamed and the line went dead. I dialed back, but her line was busy. "Damn it!" I threw the phone down and kicked it in a fury before realizing my error. I sunk down to the ground and began to frantically search for it as the last glimmer of daylight vanished from the sky. This was not the way it was supposed to be, I thought as I felt my way around, but it was hopeless. I sat there with my head in my hands and admitted my defeat. X6 People are Strange ---------------------------------------------- Canopus, Louisiana 9:56 pm, May 6 My hatred for small towns was reinforced when Canopus welcomed my return with gossiping tongues. I was gripped by the sensation of being watched. I spun around to catch two old men rocking lazily on a rotted porch swing, chuckling as they shared a joke. I approached them. "What are you fellas doing out here in the dark?" "Weez watchin' ya, Fed, placin' bets." "Oh? Betting on me, are you?" "Old Bernie here thinks ya's a smart boy, dat ya figures things out. I thinks different." "Figure out what?" "Now, I ain't fixin' ta tell ya, or I'd lose dis here bet," he laughed. "Now or later. It's only a question of time," I informed him. "Question a' time is right," Old Bernie agreed. A sickening feeling punched me in the gut. "If you guys know anything about the crime..." Old Bernie motioned for me to come closer. "The boy's innocent," he whispered, and refused to say anything more. The two old men laughed. I thought about what they said as I continued my journey back to the police station. I was nearly there when I was treated to a bizarre sight. Parked in the middle of the road was a very large man in a very small lawn chair. He had an old fashion cooler full of beers and a lantern by his feet. He looked like he had nothing better to do than block the road for the occasional car, if any passed by at all. "Catch anythin'?" he snickered. "Street party?" I tossed back. He looked me up and down, observing my black pants, black coat, white shirt and black tie. "Someone die?" he laughed. "No. I'm investigating a crime. Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI." I produced my ID. "Da spooky girl's caca-meme story? Waste o' time." He twisted open a beer bottle labeled "La Mer's Voodoo Brew." He offered me a fresh one from the cooler. "No thanks." "Ya missin' out, cap. La Mer makes da best damn brew in Louisiana. Folks say it's da *special* ingredients, if ya know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows. "But don't listen ta dem none. Only thing ya needa know is it tastes damn fine." He greedily milked the bottle for the last drop. "Ahhhhh!" "Why is it a waste of time to investigate? You think the boy is innocent?" "Don't I know it." "Why would he confess to a crime he didn't commit?" "Cause." He twisted open another bottle. "Da boy thinks da whole town don't know about 'em." He bobbed his head up and down. "But we do." "Don't know what?" "Now I ain't spreadin' gossip see, but dat boy is as gay as dey come." "Rape is act of violence, not sex. Tell me, did he fight with his sister?" He shuttered. "Like cats and dogs." He looked at me funny. "Nervous tick?" "Nervous tick?" He copied my gesture, reaching his hand into an imaginary coat pocket. "Oh. My cell phone. I'm expecting a call." Too bad I lost it. "Da 90s." He shook his head. "Peoples got strange addictions in da 90s. Back in my day, folks just smoked cigarettes." He greedily gobbled down a third beer as I watched and debated with myself if I should suggest he join Alcoholics Anonymous, but I thanked him for the information instead and made my way on down the road. "Aww!" I stepped on a sharp rock and I stopped to nurse my foot. Assuming the scenario the Beer Guzzling Man suggested was accurate, that would explain the polygraph results. The boy's alibi was a lover. The two were spending the night together, something which they thought was a secret. The boy confessed to avoid what he considered a more embarrassing situation. However, his lover disagreed and provided a witness to his whereabouts the night of the attack which produced their conflicting testimony. Perhaps there was no crime. Perhaps there was no incubus. But there were two things of which I was certain. There was a lonely girl starved for attention and a bitter agent who just ruined a stellar partnership. There was one way to find the truth about the other two, but first a quick trip was needed to retrieve some badly needed footwear. X7 I Shot The Sheriff ---------------------------------------------- Canopus Sheriff's Office 10:56 pm, May 6 As I opened the door, the fish stench of the police station assaulted my nostrils. "Evenin', Agent Mulda. Catch anythin'?" Sheriff Loman grinned with gap-toothed contentment as he leaned back in his decaying vinyl chair, a mindless imbecile with a badge. I favored him with an indulgent smirk. "No. I didn't catch anything." "Too bad, uh?" He poured a bucket of shelled crawfish in an electric-heated pot perched precariously on the police report inbox. The bulletin board over Willy's shoulder caught my attention. "That's a lot of missing people for a town as small as this. Thirteen people over a ten year period." "Uh?" He blinked. I motioned for him to look up at the bulletin board. "All these people disappeared from Canopus?" "Oh yeh." He brushed me off. "Binlookin f'dem a long time." He appeared to be more concerned about his late night snack than these unsolved cases. I scanned the descriptions, looking for any similarities that could point to the modus operandi of a serial killer: Six housewives, a retired elderly man, a traveling salesman, the deputy, and a missing cat named "Fluffy." Interesting. "I'd like to see your missing persons' file." "File?" Willy poured into the stew a thick red pepper sauce, identified on the label as "La Mer's Voodoo Hellfire." The police radio dispatch crackled in the next room. "...a possible thunderstorm and flash flood watch to be issued for southern Louisiana in the next twelve hours. Evacuations expected in the low laying areas of Lafourche, Terrebonne, St. Charles, Plaquenilles, Jefferson, Assumption and St. Mary parishes. All units..." Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the jail cell was empty. "Willy! Where's Lupie's brother?" "'em?" Willy casually glanced up from his bubbling concoction. "Gone." "You let him go? Lupie's alone out there! Shit! Why did you do that?" "Ya mean let 'em leave, uh?" He stirred in a few more drops of Voodoo Hellfire. "Yes," I answered tensely, barely containing my anger. "Why did you let him go?" "Well, da men who picked 'em up said I couldn't hold him on da account that der was no arrest warrant." "What men?" "Don't know who dey were, but dey had nice suits." He grinned and inhaled the spicy aroma. I noticed a Morley cigarette butt on the floor, camouflaged among a pile of discarded fish scales. My paranoia surfaced. "Do you smoke?" "No'suh." He licked his lips. "Willy! Listen to me." I yanked the electric pot's plug out of the wall and demanded his undivided attention. "I'm a Federal Agent and you're going to help me on this investigation. Do what I say and not what anyone else tells you. Understand?" "Yes'suh." "Good. You are going to drive me to the Lupies'." He looked at his dinner, then at me. I glared at him in contempt. He sighed, grabbed his coat and went for the door. I picked up an old dial phone and called Scully. Busy signal. I scribbled a quick note for her, just in case. Scully, Sorry. We should talk. Willy and I are taking Lupie to Houma for the forensic test. Mulder p.s. Lost my cell phone. X8 How Soon Is Now? ---------------------------------------------- The Oak Island Plantation 11:35pm, May 6 I stood in the flickering beams of the rusted 60's era squad car headlights and observed the crumbling antebellum mansion for any signs of life. Scully and I had been here earlier today, but one needed to be here at night to appreciate the haunting dread of this place. I stopped for a moment to pay my respects. Clumps of swaying Spanish moss shrouded two gigantic live oaks. Judging by the trees' enormous gnarled branches, they must have been over 150 years old; titans slowly dying as their roots became waterlogged by the sinking salt dome island upon which Lupie's home was built. This place was a relic of pre-Civil War Southern splendor made possible by human slavery, an injustice which ultimately became a rallying cry in the War Between The States. More American lives were lost in this one war than all other wars combined. And this testament to a cruel bygone era would soon disappear into the encroaching swamp. The murky water was already lapping the outer most Doric column of the lower gallery. History, no matter how terrible, should never be erased, lest its lessons be forgotten. The house looked like it was deserted. I turned back to Willy, who was waiting in the car. "You sure she's here? Doesn't look like anyone's home." "Dats cause da house got no electricity." "Never wired for electricity?" How can anyone live like that? "Yes'suh. Canopus and all da area around it used to be part of da Oak Island Plantation in da days, but after la querre des Confederes, carpet bagguhs, and de risin' marsh well..." he sighed, "dis here house is all dat's left." I looked back at the mansion and tried to picture the grand estate it once was. Beside a toppled garden statuary, a large dark object caught my eye. It appeared to be a monstrous black cauldron. "What's that for?" I pointed it out to Willy. "Boilin' sugarcane." He nodded his head toward the river winding around the back of the property. "Dey'd ship it right down da Atchafalaya to da Gulf." "Got a flashlight?" "Yes'suh." He handed a cheap plastic one to me. "Stay here and keep the headlights on. I'll go get her." I walked up to the front porch, carefully navigating the saturated ground. The door handle was unlocked. "Lupie?" The headlight beams leaked through the shutters as I entered. I could almost picture the ghost of a Confederate soldier in the corner of the ancient parlour, rocking back and forth in a creaky wooden chair. I turned on the weak flashlight and conducted a quick survey. I had a hunch that this place had secrets only visible at night. The sweet smell was strong in the marsh. I felt a sickening warmth envelop me and I shrugged off my stifling jacket in response. Something moved behind me. I quickly spun around to discover a large rat, its eyes reflecting the beam. "Scram!" I shouted, and aimed a good kick in its direction. It scurried a few feet away and then continued to watch me placidly. Guess it didn't consider me much of a threat. Several things have been bugging me about this case. What kind of parents would leave their children alone for a week while they took an extended fishing expedition? And who would raise kids in these terrible living conditions? Why had the authorities not caught up with the parents? It didn't make sense. Willy couldn't possibly be that inept, could he? "Lupie? It's Agent Mulder. You here?" The old wooden staircase creaked below me as I went upstairs. To my left was the windowless room where Lupie was attacked; hanging police tape still barred the entrance. I imagined the terror Lupie would face each night, knowing that no room and no lock could provide safety from her incorporeal attacker, not as long as she continued to live here. And I wasn't going allow that. Even if I couldn't prove her story, there were enough signs of abuse and neglect for me to alert the Child Protection Agency. They would find her a new home in foster care. I came upon a room littered with candles. Eerie shadows were cast against the walls in the flickering light. I noticed a heavy ornate door, dark and partially hidden in the back of the room. "Lupie?" Nothing. I went inside to discover a tiny library stacked full of books, many on Egyptian Mythology. One of them was pulled out from the others and book-marked. I flipped it open to a drawing from the Book of the Dead. It depicted a man with the head of a black jackal kneeling at the midpoint of a giant scale, checking it for accuracy. I recognized him: Anubis, Guardian of the Dead. The inscription below the picture was highlighted. I quickly shut the door behind me and read the passage. The Hall of Ma'at From the Papyrus of Hunefer (c.3070 B.C.) The British Museum London PICTURED ABOVE: Anubis presiding over the weighing of the heart ceremony. Anubis appeared on behalf of the deceased in the Hall of Ma'at, where final judgment took place. This was done by weighing one's heart (conscience) against the Feather of Ma'at (truth). It was Anubis's duty to place the heart on the scales and adjust them fairly, based on how much the deceased had suffered during life. If the heart was "light as a feather," the owner would be worthy of an afterlife. If the heart was burdened with sin and guilt, the heart would be consumed by the crocodile- faced demon, Ammut, the Devourer of Souls, and the owner would die a "second death," passing into oblivion. Finding this, after the dream I had this morning, was far too coincidental to be an accident. I looked up Anpu in the index. It said, "See Anubis, page 42." ANUBIS (Greek form of the Egyptian name Anpu) Anubis's symbol was that of a dark Egyptian hunting hound, wolf, dog, or, most commonly, a jackal. It is hypothesized that Anubis had the form of a jackal because jackals were often seen roaming the tombs and cemeteries of Egypt. As such, he represented all those who had a foot in two worlds. Anubis was a diplomat with a dark and sardonic nature, but he was also known to bestow compassion upon the unfortunate. He was a guide to the spirits of the deceased, patron of orphans and lost souls, God of magic, and the Egyptian personification of time. Anubis could see into the myriad possible futures and pasts. He was also credited for creating the world's first mummy in the Osirus legend. Anubis was the bastard child of Nephthys, born of her clandestine union with Seth. She abandoned him in the wilderness and he was raised as the son of Osirus. As he grew to manhood, it became obvious that Anubis was not of Osirus's ilk, showing a streak of melancholy that could only be attributed to the blood of his real and secret father. Anubis was cast out when his true nature was discovered, and left to his own solitary devices. Now the haunter of dark and lonely places, a wanderer through the shadow-realm between life and death, Anubis bears witness to the darker side of mortality. He seeks out those lost souls who find themselves without guidance after their demise, and he helps them navigate the trials of Duat until their final destination is reached, the Hall of Ma'at. I slammed the book shut. Something was toying with me. Something that knew Scully and I were on the way. A strange jeweled box sat on the bookcase next to a melted candle. I opened it to find an overstuffed file within the velvet-lined interior. I withdrew it and a photograph fell to the floor. I reached down to recover it and was shocked to see my own image. The file was an extensive report on Scully, myself and the X-Files. It contained both our current FBI personnel records and several newspaper clippings of our cases. "Look's like the local incubus is on the Syndicate payroll," I grumbled bitterly. I didn't like being played with, and my anger grew as I considered the situation. I spotted an oil painting in the corner, carefully wrapped in a protective cloth. I started to pull it out when I heard the car horn blast outside. "Say podna," I mockingly mimicked Willy's voice. "Ya think it'd be a good idea ta blast da car horn and announce to da world ya'r snoopin' around, uh?" I reluctantly left the hidden room, vowing to return later for a more thorough search. I found Lupie outside in the moonlight at the end of the dock, her long black dress blowing in the breeze. It was a stunning image to behold. Her dark willowy figure was ethereal, a black bird floating on a breeze. "Lupie. It's Agent Mulder." I joined her on the dock. "It's so peaceful out here, isn't it, Fox?" "It's time to go, Lupie." I observed the ankh necklace she wore. Her heavy eye make-up wasn't Gothic; it was Egyptian. "Shhh. Listen to the crickets and the frogs." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "It's like a lullaby." "Sheriff Loman is waiting out front," I informed her. She was stalling. Suspicion leaked into my voice. "Your brother is missing." She hid her face from me. "You don't care about me at all, do you?" She was avoiding the topic of her brother. "I want to help you Lupie, but there is no way I can if I don't get solid proof to back up your story. That's why we need to go, before it disappears completely." "No! What am I to you, a mystery to be solved? That woman was right! You're just using me to prove some crazy fucking theory!" She turned and fled to the house. I made a mental note to myself about Lupie's extreme shifting behavior. I needed to observe her for a longer period of time before I could be certain of her diagnosis, but I was reasonably sure it was Reactive Attachment Disorder. It's a common among orphans, and while Lupie didn't literally figure into that category, she came close enough. I found Lupie hiding upstairs in the secret room, clutching the book I had looked at earlier tightly against her breast, like a frightened child clinging to a security blanket. "Don't let them touch me, Fox." Lupie said in a small uncertain voice. Black rivers of tears stained her pale cheeks. My heart went out to her. There was no mistaking the signs of lifelong abuse. I fished out a handkerchief and gave it to her. "I'm sorry, Lupie. If there was any other way..." "Someone hurt you once too, didn't they?" She sniffled and wiped her nose. "That's why you want to help me." "What makes you think that?" "Don't bullshit me!" she barked. Then, just as quickly, her tone softened. "Or maybe you don't want to remember." "What?" I exclaimed, stunned at her accusation. I needed to get this conversation back on track. I needed to gain her trust, and maybe then she would be straight with me. I sat next to her and she began to relax. "Tell me about your book. It's a special book, isn't it? Will you share it with me?" Willy poked his head in the door. I discreetly motioned for him to leave us alone. He stared at me blankly, not following my meaning. "Wait in the car, Willy." "Da car, uh?" I bit back less appropriate responses through my gritted teeth. "Just wait in the car." He looked at me, then at Lupie before hesitantly leaving. I whispered to her, "Willy isn't exactly right in the head, is he? Why does this town have him as the sheriff? I don't think I would issue him a weapon." "It's a small town," she shrugged. "Someone has to do it." She sighed and fidgeting with the corners of the book. "He wasn't always that way. I feel sorry for him. The whole town ostracized him after the accident. He never did truly recover." She mumbled more to herself than me, "Everyone deserves forgiveness. Her large blue eyes reflected the candle light, quietly studying me. "No matter what happens, thank you. I really mean that." "I haven't done anything." "Yes, you have." She paused, then opened her mouth to speak again, but the words died on her lips. We both watched each other in a strange fascination, each of us trying to figure out the other. She looked behind me. "Where's your lady friend? I thought she was going to do the test?" I didn't want to talk about Scully, but I ventured a small smile. "She ran away in fear that her purity would be vulnerable to the evil Spooky lurking about." "No, she didn't. She didn't believe me, but you do. Why aren't *you* afraid for your purity?" "Because." I grinned and jumped on all fours. "If that evil spook comes near me, I'll turn myself into a crazy wolf and chase it away." I pounced around the room, barking and growling until she laughed at my ridiculousness. "I'll howl if he comes near me!" She demonstrated and I howled along with her. "You're pretty cool for a Fed," she laughed, and then slowly lowered the book to show me a picture. It was a different page from the one I had looked at. This drawing showed the jackal man with a lady who wore a feather in her hair. "The Lady Ma'at." I pointed to the page. "The personification of Truth and Cosmic Order. She was the wife of Thoth, God of Logic and Reason." "You know stuff about Egypt? Awesome! Hey, I know something I bet you don't know! The Egyptian men used to dip their balls in hot water as a form of birth control. Do you think that shit really works?" She dropped her voice. "I mean, would you do it?" I coughed, trying not to laugh at her uncouthness. "How the hell do you know that?" She her pale cheeks flamed a bright red. "I, uh, read about it." I pointed to Lupie's ankh necklace. "You know what this represents, don't you?" "Life," she replied, proudly showing off her knowledge. No, I smiled to myself, its the sign of sexual union. She pointed to the jackal man. "Anubis was a protector. He made sure no one cheated the dead of a fair trial." She paused, her head tilted in thought. "I think you two have a lot in common. You make sure the dead get justice too. That's what an X-File is, right? Investigating bizarre deaths no one else cares about." "Not all X-Files are murders. For instance, there's a recent case about a bright young girl who knows more than she's telling." "I can trust you, can't I?" "Yes." I hoped my answer would yield a confession. "Okay. I'll do the test in the city, but only tomorrow and only if you stay with me tonight. I don't feel safe here. Not anymore. Not after what happened." "I'll get you a nice room in town. Willy and I will keep watch over you there." "No!" I sighed. Two difficult women in one day. Someone shoot me now. "Okay. I'll be right here." "Thanks, Agent Mulder." She smiled and yawned. "I'm dead dog tired, aren't you?" "Get some sleep, Lupie." She snuggled against me, resting her head on my shoulder. "I like your cologne," she whispered, and quickly fell asleep. I wasn't wearing cologne and I wasn't comfortable with her clinging to me. It made me sad to think that one person shows her kindness and she immediately attaches to them. She had obviously adopted me as a father figure type role. Whatever lies Lupie was weaving, my intuition was persistent in telling me she was basically a good kid. Willy poked his head in the doorway. "I'm going to stay with her to make sure she's okay. Be back by 5." He glanced at Lupie, as if he needed her permission to leave. "She'll be fine," I assured him. He nodded and left. The flickering shadows on the wall worked on my imagination, taking on the shapes of monsters and demons. The sounds of the swamp, of frogs, crickets and other nocturnal creatures I could not identify all conspired to creep me out. What the hell had I gotten myself into? Sweat beaded on my brow. It was getting hard to breathe. The room began to spin. I stupidly reached for my missing cell phone to call Scully. Everything faded to black. X9 Love Potion No. 9 ---------------------------------------------- Duat 12 am, May 7, 1996 I thought I heard Scully's voice distorted through moving water. "Mulder, can you hear me?" I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see anything. Was I dreaming? In a blinding flash of lightning, I saw a ghostlike image of the green Ford Crown Victoria spinning wildly out of control. There was a loud splash. Scully screamed. "Scully!" I ran forward, fumbling in the darkness. My body crashed against a damp stonewall where I had expected the car to be. "Scully, where are you?!" I felt my way around. There was no reply. The wall seemed to extend for an undeterminable distance. I followed it, hoping that it led to something, to anything. "Scully!" I felt a draft, and my hand soon fell into emptiness. There was a room here. The hairs raised on the back of my neck, warning me that I was not alone; someone was watching me. I slowly backed out of the room. "Scully?" I whispered, "Are you in here?" "Anpu? Anpu Ka?" "Scully? Is that you?" I continued to back out slowly until I bumped into something hard. The thing grabbed my wrists, spun me around, pinning my arms tightly behind me. I was shoved forward. There was another flash of lightning and torches all around me burst into flames, revealing a long hall in full Egyptian splendor. Gold gleamed everywhere in the amber light, and a giant imposing scale stood at the head of the chamber. I was overwhelmed. Before me was a beautiful Egyptian woman with an ostrich plume tucked into the red ribbon that fastened her shoulder-length black plaited hair. The elegant lines of her red tunic stopped just below her breast with two wide straps snugly secured across her shoulders. Her attire would not be considered proper by Western standards, but it would be a mistake to judge her by them. Her femininity was perfectly balanced against her imposing authority. Besides, I liked her symmetry, both of them. "Ma'at?" I asked. She made a motion with her hand to have me released, and the thing that held me obeyed. I turned to face my captor, and the long muzzle of the black jackal headdress poked me in the face. "Your reputation precedes you, Anpu." A playful smile curled upon his lips. I shuttered, realizing it wasn't a mask. He wore a white pleaded loincloth, a gold pectoral collar inlaid with gemstones, and tight gold bands around his biceps with matching bracelets and finger rings. He moved quickly behind Ma'at and assumed a protective stance. He studied me with as much curiosity as I was studying him. I was intrigued with their nonverbal communication, a small gesture here, a quick glance there. It reminded me of the type of language twins develop that no one else understands. I wondered if they were lovers. Ma'at smiled at me warmly. I was completely smitten with her. The air between us seemed electrified. She was incredibly sexy. What's she doing hanging around a freak like him? She needs a real man, not a half breed. Her smile grew warmer as if she knew what my thoughts were. She whispered over her shoulder knowingly: "Anpu Ka." The jackal man mumbled a response into her ear. She rolled her eyes. He looked at me and bared his fangs. I mistook it as a sign of aggression, seeing those long threatening canines, but then I realized it was supposed to be a grin, a rather goofy looking grin. His toothy smile grew larger, knowing I had been afraid. My attention wandered back to his more attractive partner. Her unwavering gaze remained locked on me. The intensity of her stare made my pulse quicken. "Ma'at?" Anpu looked at me, then her, then back to me once more. His tall ears began to droop. The humor drained from his voice. "Ma'at?" He nudged her shoulder, but she ignored him. His ears flicked back, he wrapped his arms around her and then snarled at me. A long tongue flicked out of his mouth and he licked her cheek in a long sensuous sweeping motion as if to say, "mine." If his intention was to make me jealous, it worked. She slapped him hard on the snout and scowled at him. "Mmmmm.... Dua sekhmet Ma'at." He chuckled softly, under his breath, rubbing his nose. He winked at me, then grabbed a torch and exited the hall. She glared at him disapprovingly and motioned for me to follow him, but I didn't. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She seemed surprised I didn't leave. Without thinking, I pulled her to me, observing her more closely. She stiffened against me, shocked by my aggressive curiosity. Under that black wig and heavy eye makeup, she reminded me of a certain lady I know. I caressed the subtle skin of her cheek to see if she was real. "Scully," I breathed heavily. She softened in my embrace. Her eyes told me secrets that words could not express in such a loving manner. "That isn't you, is it?" She nodded. "Does that mean yes it is you, or no it's not?" She offered me no further clues to satisfy my escalating curiosity. "Pedjet!" Anpu barked behind me. Next thing I saw was the ground rushing up to greet me as I collided with rough stone floor. Anpu yanked me up to his strange face, his hot breath steaming over me, but he didn't strike. He was scrutinizing me in a combination of outrage and wonder. I glared back at him defiantly. "Touch me again and I'll teach you how to play dead." "Sebek Anpu! Sebek Anpu Ka!" Ma'at yelled. We both looked at her, forgetting about our rivalry as she chastised us both and stormed out of the hall. I couldn't help but snicker like a naughty boy. Anpu snickered too. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Anpu leaned close to me and whispered so she wouldn't hear him, "Sebek Ma'at," and steered me to the exit. As soon as we are out of hall, he pulled me to the side, and double checked to see if we are out of her line of sight. He whispered to me "Anpu dua nefer Ma'at, sa Ma'at." He smiled like a love sick puppy and showed me a tattoo on his left hip. It was of a loop of rope with no beginning and no end. "Ma'at Anpu shenu." I drew a circle in the air. "Shenu. Ouroboras. Yin yang." "Anpu." He pointed to himself. "Anpu Ka ren?" He pointed to me. "Fox Mulder." He pointed back to himself. "Fox ba Anpu?" "It's Mulder to you, An-pooch. The real Scully is in trouble. Do you know where she is?" "Sculla?" "Scully." I pointed to the room, "Ma'at." I pointed to a bright amber jewel on his collar. "Scully." He didn't get it so I pointed to an red jewel on his collar and ran a hand through my hair. "Scully." He looked confused. I repeated my question. He still looked confused. "Ma'at, only with red hair." He growled under his breath, and then pointed to an orange jewel. "Ma'at fa tesher," he declared, and messed up my hair. "Yes. Scully is Ma'at with red hair." He shook his head no. "Ma'at." "Ma'at has red hair too?" "Sculla Ma'at Ka?" We didn't say anything for awhile, resuming our stroll down the corridor. I guess he understood. "Hey uh, Anpu. You two.. ever, uh..." He stopped and turned around. "You know... Anpu and Ma'at." I made a profane gesture with my hands. He was shocked by my crudeness and quickly pulled my hands apart. "I'll take that as a no." He placed a hand on my crotch. "Mol-dar Minu." I slapped his dirty paw off me. "So Dog Boy, which do you prefer, Alpo or Purina?" "Alpo?" His brow furrowed, not understanding me. I grinned smugly. He spread his arms out as far as he could and then flicked my nose. "Umt-i fenti." "Hypocrite." "Kha sab." He took me to a room that appeared to be a laboratory. It was a clutter of pots, dried herbs, sand, scrolls, and linens. I picked up one of clay containers and sniffed it, trying to figure out what it was. Anpu snatched it from me. "What's your problem?" He made a choking sound, grabbed his throat, and rolled his eyes back. He dropped to his knees gagging and collapsing to the floor in a deathlike pose. His legs kicked out and twitched before he gagged one last time. I laughed. "You won't get an Oscar for that performance." He laughed with me and rolled over on an elbow. "Mol-dar henu Anpu?" "This your stuff?" I pointed around the room. He nodded. I mimicked mixing a bowl of ingredients. "Let me guess, you worked alone in the dark, night after night, toiling in this lab, foregoing any kind of a normal life as you mixed ingredients and experimented with exotic potions in search of the secret to...." "Shenu ankh!" He brightened up instantly, jumping to his feet. "No." I smirked. "Super Fly! Love Potion Number 9! How ironic." Anpu didn't get my little translation joke. He uncovered a granite case cleverly hidden within a heavy stone work bench. As he opened the lid, a strange blue glow peeked out from within. I leaned around him trying to see what it was. He suddenly withdrew the case, as if he thought I would steal it from him. "Seth!" he snarled. I knew who Seth was. He was the Egyptian god of Chaos, War, and Storms, and obviously Anpu's enemy. "You can trust me," I reassured him. "Believe me, I'm not him, not even close." Anpu gestured for me to continue. "The only way I can control the weather is if I wash the car." He wasn't impressed. He wanted more information. "Okay, in your case, say you just washed the chariot." Anpu shook his head no. "Seth," he repeated, and again gestured beseechingly. He wanted to know how much I knew. "Seth was the earliest incarnation of Satan, the red-eyed embodiment of outright evil. The story goes that Seth was evil even before birth, because he ripped himself from his mother's womb by tearing through her side. He murdered his brother, Osiris, because he was jealous. He wanted to rule Egypt and he was angry that his consort, Nephthys, seduced Osirus." I pointed to Anpu. "This is where you come into the story. It's not clear who your real father is, Osirus or Seth, but I think it was...." Anpu raised his eyebrows anxiously. "Er... Anyway, Horus, Osiris's *other* son, eventually caught Seth and put him on trial. Oddly enough, they couldn't kill him. They banished him to the desert instead." Anpu relaxed, convinced of my trustworthiness. "Heka suh, Septet." He made sure no one else was around, looking left and right before he proudly displayed before me a blue glowing bottle in the shape of an ankh. "Ma'at -- Xeru," he whispered, mesmerized by the glow. "Very impressive. May I?" I reached for it. He shook his head no, but he was overjoyed that I was interested and wanted to show me more. He accidentally dropped several papyrus sheets in his excitement. I helped him pick them up. One sheet portrayed a woman with a feather in her hair and wings on her arms like an Egyptian angel. "Ma'at?" He looked over and nodded, and then continued to dig through the papers. A second papyrus showed him balancing a scale and Ma'at standing next to him, placing a feather on it. "Ma'at and Anpu?" He looked over at the drawing. He nodded before resuming his search for whatever he meant to show me. "Aah!" He held up a drawing with a stylized version of himself wrapping the Pharaoh for mummification. "You used the glowing ankh to raise Osiris from the dead, right? Immortality in a bottle." "Shenu ankh!" He was very excited. I took the sheet from him. "So you're the one responsible the whole mummification craze. I've been accused of something similar in my time with little green men." "Gren min?" "Yeah." I made a whirly bird sound and pointed to the sky. "Eh?" "Aliens." "Gren min alin?" "Gray, actually." I shrugged. "So what went wrong?" I pointed at the bottle. "Eh?" "Why aren't there a lot of dead Egyptians roaming the world?" He frowned. "Mol-dar," he pointed to me, "ba Anpu," to himself, he pretended to drink from the ankh bottle and drew a circle in the air, "shenu ankh." I started to feel a little woozy. Sweat dripped down my back. "It's been fun, Dog Boy. Maybe we can play charades some other day." "AAAGGHH!" He grabbed his ears, yanking on them and growling in frustration. "No, no. I do get it, but I'm on a mission here. I need to find Scully. She's in trouble. Are you going to help me or not?" "Mol-dar Minu." He grumbled and replaced the ankh bottle, covering the case, and hiding it once more. He grabbed a torch and departed from the lab and I followed him into the darkness. We walked for what felt like an eternity. "Where are we?" I pantomimed out the question. He gave me a sideways glance, watching me closely for my reaction. "Duat." "Duat?" I worded my question with my hands. "You're guiding me through Duat?" He shook his head no. "Are you trying to tell me Scully is here?" I asked nervously. He abruptly stopped in his tracks, his tall ears perked upwards. "What is it, Lassie?" "Sokar!" He waved me off and listened. I saw a doorway in the direction he was looking. "Seth." He pointed his nose at the door like a hunting dog spotting prey. "Is Scully in there?" I started towards the entrance, but he grabbed my arm. "Anpu sa Mol-dar tiet." "Oh, uh... thanks for helping me out, Anpu." I moved for the door but he jumped in front of me, blocking my path. "Akh-rek? Sa ka Mol-dar!" This game was getting old. "Parting is such sweet sorrow. I think I'm going to miss that breath of yours the most." I walked around him but he slid over, blocking my path once more. "You're paranoid. Why should I listen to you?" He sighed and surveyed our surroundings to see if anyone was watching. "Shhh," he whispered, pressing a finger to the tip of his muzzle. Then he shocked the hell out of me by taking the jackal head off. "Meet the man behind the curtain," I said softly Anpu could have passed for my brother, with long thick black hair. A deep sorrow filled his kohl-lined incandescent eyes which glowed in the same shade of blue as that of the ankh bottle. "Ouch. And I thought tequila had a nasty bite." Anpu placed a hand over his heart and moaned. "Selqet, Ma'at. Ta au metu en shakaika an Ma'at-i." He was not all the silly puppy I thought he was. He was grave and vulnerable. He was no deity, that's for sure. I took the mask from him and looked inside. "Guess you're not really stonefaced afterall," I tilted the black mask to catch some light inside. "Hey, how did you do that tongue thing, anyway?" I raised the jackal head above me to try on, but he snatched it away before I could. "You have a territorial problem, you know that?" His dark mood abruptly changed, and he spoke as if proclaiming a dire warning. "Anpu Ieb. Ammut, rekhyt ka. Seth iunet Mol-dar." He pretended to pull his heart out and eat it. "Ammut." He pointed to doorway urgently trying to make me understand. "Khet." He held the torch up pointing to the flame, then he motioned towards the door. "Khet. Lupa Sekhem-empet." "Don't worry. I'll be fine." I patted him on the arm and moved quickly into the darkness before he could stop me. "Goodnight, Dr. Frankenstein." I mumbled under my breath. X10 Terrible Lie ---------------------------------------------- The Oak Island Plantation 5:35 am, May 7, 1996 "Fox! Wake up!" I felt hands lift my head up and wipe the sweat from my forehead. A sudden clap of thunder almost drowned out Willy's droning voice. "Dere's a storm blowin' in, Agent Mulda. Da roads won't be safe f'long." I jumped with a start at the sight of Lupie and Sheriff Loman staring down at me in the flicker of distant lightning. It was a dream? It felt more like a bomb had gone off in my head. "What time is it?" I moaned. "5:35. You okay, Fox? Your eyes..." Lupie's voice trailed off, like the doctor who avoids telling a terminally ill patient his condition. Willy looked at me in confusion. "Agent Mulda, you illin'?" He forced open my eye lids and frowned. He must not have liked what he saw. He turned to Lupie. "We take em to da docta too. I'll get da car." Thunder rumbled in the distance. "Uh... uh, Fox?" Lupie stammered. "It's a long ride to the city. Maybe you can tell me about your dream on the way." She held out a hand to help me up. "You said something like, 'Heh shuit. Ma'at -- Xeru.' Why did you say that?" As I stood up, the sharp soreness in my back from sleeping on the hard wood floor began to clear my head. "I didn't say anything." "Yeah." She rolled her eyes. "At least someone got some fucking sleep. I thought you were going to start singing an opera next." "I don't talk in my sleep." "Sure you don't. And I wasn't here all night not hearing you chatter on and on. It must have been the spook that said, 'Selqet Ma'at. Ta au metu en shakaika an Ma'at-i. Anpu Ieb. Ammut, rekhyt ka. Seth iunet Mol-dar. Ammut. Khet. Lupa Sekhem-empet.' What the hell does that mean?" I chill ran down my spine. That was a mouthful of Egyptian to spew. Her tone softened. "I can help you interpret your dream, if you want. I'm really good at that stuff." She smiled enthusiastically. "You know, dreams are the answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask." "How convenient," I grumbled under my breath. "What?" "You do dream analysis?" "Seeking wisdom in dreams," she beamed. "Really? That's interesting because the practice of incubating in the Earth Womb, or seeking wisdom in dreams, dates back to ancient Egypt. Bet you didn't know that." She listened eagerly, oblivious to my condescension. "In fact," I continued, as I purposefully moved to tower over her. "It's been said that the Incubi priests were able to enter a sleeper's dreams. They interpreted the symbols and offered prophecies and advice." Lupie backed away, intimidated by my sudden malice. I bent down and looked her in eye, daring her to lie to me again. "Imagine the fun one could have with an unsuspecting sleeper." "Enter a person's dream?" She laughed nervously. "You don't really believe that shit, do you?" I glared at her in contempt. Willy poked his head in the doorway. "Feelin' better, uh?" "Change of plans, Willy. We're not going to the city. We're going to search Route One." "Route One? What's on Route One?" "Something I lost." I brushed past Lupie coldly. She shuffled behind me. "No. You stay here." I told her firmly, pushing her back into the room. Lupie's face turned red. She spoke in a wounded tone. "You're not going to test me anymore?" "Why? There's nothing to find." I walked toward the door. "But... but... you said you would help me if I helped you first." I pulled her aside and scolded her in a rigid tone. "I don't help naughty manipulative little girls." "But.. but..." Her lower lip quivered. "When you're ready to give me the truth, then we'll talk." Willy hesitated by the door, shocked by my behavior. "Come on. She'll be fine." I roughly grabbed his coat and dragged him behind me. Willy looked back at the room. "Now I don't mean ta tell ya what ta do, podna, but ya shouldn'a done dat." "Lupie needs to learn right from wrong. Something that her parents obviously have not taught her." Willy was shaking. "What are you afraid of, Willy?" "I jus think ya shouldn'a have done dat, dats all." X11 Nowhere Man ---------------------------------------------- Route One 6:35 am, May 7, 1996 Lightning streaked across the bleak sky. I strained to see out the window through the downpour as we slowly made our way up Route One. The car's wiper blades swished by rapidly, and for a single second the view was clear, before the large droplets once more made it impossible to scan the flooding road. Even if I had wanted to go to Houma, we never would have made it, not in these road conditions. The wind rocked the decayed squad car, and Willy shivered underneath his coat. "Gettin' cold out dere, uh?" I was burning up. I quietly reevaluated how the talents of the Incubi could be put to use as I scanned the road. If the Incubi could tap into the subconscious as I suspected, then they were also capable of much more than the mere erotic escapades of legend or simple dream interpretation and advice. The potential for reconnaissance was very real, as was the threat posed for inflicting psychological damage through nightmares. I curiously watched the drowsy Sheriff as he drove. What if your dreams may not even be your own, but engineered by someone else? My thoughts wandered to Anpu and Ma'at, and then turned to Samantha. Could my recovered memories of her abduction also be implanted? I quickly put that thought out of my mind and concentrated on the matter at hand. I envisioned a nightmare world where even the most private thoughts were vulnerable to prying eyes, the deepest secrets of the heart exposed to one's enemies. Paranoia gripped me. There would be nowhere to hide in such a world. I remembered the cigarette butt at the police station. It didn't take much imagination to understand the value the Cigarette Smoking Man would have for a genuine incubus. "Willy, do you have frequent nightmares?" His eyes darted off the road and stared at me in astonishment. "Yes'suh. How'd ya know dat?" The car began to veer off the road. "Eyes on the road!" I quickly grabbed the steering wheel. "Were you asleep when Lupie's brother disappeared?" "I don't rightly recall fallin' asleep, Agent Mulda." "Tell me about the missing people, Willy." "What ya wanta know?" "Were the victims connected in anyway to Lupie?" "No'suh!" "Think Willy, even the tiniest detail." He remained adamant, denying any connection. "Did Lupie ask you to specifically contact me about her case, or was it your own idea?" He looked at me and blinked. He was avoiding my questions. "Eyes on the road." He frowned and concentrated on driving once more. "What we lookin' f'Agent Mulda, anyways?" "You'll know when you see it," I answered cryptically. I didn't want spend the next several hours explaining myself, especially about a wild hunch. "How well do you know Lupie?" "She was real nice ta me when I lost ma family." He reached into his pocket and proudly showed me a picture. He was obviously a different man back then. The photo displayed a smiling Willy with his arms wrapped around a woman. A round cheeked little girl stood before them holding up a fishing rod, happily displaying her pathetically small catch. "I'm sorry to hear that. What happened to them?" "F'da longest time, I don't rightly recall." His knuckles grew white as he gripped the steering wheel. "It was a boatin' accident." "That's what your nightmares are about, aren't they?" "Da night dey died," he choked out. "Ya see, it was ma fault. I rememba dat now. I shoulda seen da otha boat. Dey said it was an accident, coulda happen to anyone. But I know I coulda reacted sooner weren't f'all dose brews." He covered his eyes and sobbed loudly. The car again veered off the road. I grabbed the wheel. "Pull over. I'll drive." He brought the car to a halt. "Willy. I'm going to ask you a strange question, and I want you to think really hard before answering. Understand?" He sniffled and agreed. I lowered my voice to a grave tone, so he would understand this was not a joke. "Does Lupie control you?" He looked down. I waited patiently for him to think it over. "Do you need her permission to come and go?" A reply never came. I gave up on him after a while and jumped out of the car into the downpour. The water was up to my ankles. It was too risky to continue further. The car was already in danger of being swept away. Not seeing much use in sitting around with the sullen Willy, I took the opportunity to scan ahead. There was a dark half-submerged shape roughly a mile up the road. Figuring it was another waylaid traveler, I splashed my way over to it to offer assistance. A sickening feeling of dread grew as I got closer. The car was a green Ford Crown Victoria. X12 Sinking ---------------------------------------------- The Canopus Swamp 11 am, May 7, 1996 Ancient moss-draped cypresses rose above the stagnant waters like rotting pillars of a ghostly cathedral. It gave the impression of a polluted dump, which wasn't far from the truth when one considered that this was nature's version of the municipal sewage treatment plant. I thought it was ironic that the fetid water filtered by this place would eventually be cleaner than tap water. I closed my eyes, not wanting Willy see the extent of my panic and hoping that I was the only one to hear the rapidly beating fear in my heart. Maybe the swamp was symbolic in a twisted way. Here I was, about to be baptized in the vile liquid, with a desperate prayer that perhaps my sins could be washed away, that I could be purified, and that somehow I could be blessed with a miracle. I rechecked the plastic yellow raincoat I had wrapped Scully in to make sure she was safely shielded from the frigid rain. Willy was untieing his flat-bottomed boat from the police station dock when a deafening blast of lightning struck a tall tree less than fifty feet away. He jumped with a start, almost falling into the water, but I didn't flinch. I was completely numb. I didn't care about this case. I didn't care if my condition was deteriorating. I didn't care about the storm. I didn't care about anything, only Scully. I hoped that her condition wasn't as bad as it appeared to be. The angry bruise on her forehead suggested a concussion. Her breathing was shallow and she had signs of hypothermia. "Are you sure this La Mer person is a doctor?" "We cut off. Dis da only docta and dis de only way ta reach her." Willy motioned for me to climb aboard the small fiberglass boat and I hastily jumped inside. I was startled by its remarkable instability: it tipped at a dangerous angles as I maneuvered Scully and I inside. "Explain to me again why we can't call in a helicopter." "I done told ya, da storm's wrecked havoc on everything." Willy fumbled in after me and almost tipped us over. It sounded like a conspiracy to me: one to keep us trapped here, cut off from the outside world. What are the chances of the ham radio, the radio dispatch, the phone lines, the roads and the electricity all going out at once because of a little storm? Willy calmly put the outboard engine in low gear. I think I actually growled as I lost the last of my patience, reaching around Quick Willy and angrily throttling the engine into high speed. The boat lurched forward, swinging wildly left and right before Willy regained control. We barely dodged a perilous cypress knee in time before we jetted off once more mowing down any floating vegetation in our path. I went over once more in my mind all I knew about the accident. The Victoria appeared to be facing Houma. From what I could tell above the hazy water, it had a dent to the rear left bumper. My guess was that shortly after our fight seventeen hours ago, when Scully was on her way to Houma, someone sped up from behind and forced her off the road into the swamp. Goose bumps traveled up my spine as I recalled our argument. I had made a tragic mistake and I cursed myself for my stupidity. Scully's scream just before the line went dead was not in outrage. Her cry had been a cry for help and I had been too caught up in our disagreement to recognize it. I won't know how the accident really occurred until she wakes up. As soon as the weather clears, I'll get a crane to pull the car out of the swamp, lift any residual paint and immediately begin a search for her attacker. God help the fool who did this to her. The water pump worked furiously to drain the boat as we sped deeper into the swamp, but I knew it was a losing battle. The sheer volume of rain would soon overpower it. This was a race against time. "We not gonna make it!" Willy cried. The boat was already half-full. "Keep going!" I commanded, reaching down to scoop the water out with my hands, but there was too much rain coming down for me to make any significant progress. "We gotta go back, now!" He steered the boat around for Canopus. "Keep going!" I knocked him out of the way and maneuvered the wobbling boat back around. "Which way?" "Around dis bend," he whimpered. The engine sputtered. We both looked at it and held our breath. The boat was now three fourths full. The engine made a loud clanking sound. "Dear God," I thought. "If you get me through this, I promise to never ever argue with Scully again." Suddenly, a large cloud of smoke exploded from the engine and it grinded to an ungraceful halt, spewing motor oil everywhere. "We gonna sink!" Willy screeched. I desperately tried to restart it. Nothing. I tried again, yanking the cord back hard. Nothing. "Willy, start the fucking engine! Now!" He tried, but he had no better luck than I did. I cursed him under my breath and lifted Scully's limp frame up over my shoulders. He didn't even have life preservers. I wanted to choke the life out of his nitwit existence. "Which way, Willy?!" "Dere's gators and water moccasins everywhere!" "Which way, damn it!" He looked at me like I was insane and pointed straight ahead. "It'a long way. We not even close." I jumped into the warm green carpet of slime and my feet sunk deep into the sludge. Noxious gases bubbled up around me, making me gag as I impatiently waited for Willy to follow. "Come on!" He refused. "Now Willy!" He still refused. I didn't have time for his bullshit. He would have to fend for himself. I waded forward in the slippery goo. "You not gonna make it!" Willy called out behind me, but I didn't pay any attention to him. I couldn't. My eyes were locked forward, concentrating on the task at hand. I felt something slither past my leg below the murky greenish-brown surface. One foot in front of the other, I told myself, one foot in front of the other. I tripped on a submerged root, and Scully and I fell in over our heads. I quickly recovered and pulled her up, making sure she hadn't sucked in any water. "I'm sorry." I frantically brushed the wet hair and duckweed off her face. It was deeper here. I could swim the rest of the way, but first I needed to free up my arms. I took off my jacket, placed it behind her and wove the sleeves underneath her arms. Then I tied the sleeves around my neck, creating a makeshift sling. There was a good joke in this situation with her being tied to me like a broken limb, but now was not the time. A pair of alligator eyes poked out from under the mat of duckweed, its eyes slowly following me. Don't look, I told myself. Left stroke, right stroke. A loud splash sounded behind me. Keep going, don't look. I swam faster. I didn't care if I was getting tired. "I'll rest when I'm dead," I said out loud. The splashing sounds grew closer. I needed to reduce the drag Scully created. I quickly loosened the sling, swung her around my back, resecured her, held my breath, plunged my face into the foul water and stretched into my fastest stroke. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, Breathe! In between each of my gulps for air, I heard a mechanical sound becoming more distinct. An engine? I stopped and strained to see through the gray curtain of rain. "Hey!" I yelled. "Hey! Over here!" The dark outline of a covered boat with a cabin became visible. "Hey!" "Good God Almightly!" a man's voice exclaimed. "Over here!" I splashed my arms in the water. The man on the deck of the boat pointed a shotgun at us. "Shit!" I dove to the right just as the gun went off. Water splashed violently behind us. I caught a glimpse of an enormous alligator slipping below the surface, a pool of blood bubbling up in its wake. "Here!" The man threw a rope to me. I pulled Scully and I up onto the boat in a world record time. "What the hell are you doing way out here in the swamp!" he demanded. "You're damn lucky I found you!" "My partner," I gasped, as I gently laid her on the deck. "She needs a doctor." I pulled out my soggy FBI badge. "Special Agent Fox Mulder. Can you take us to La Mer?" He placed a hand on her forehead, checked her pulse and looked at me gravely. That look alone made me die a thousand deaths. "You need a real doctor," he said softly, putting a sympathetic hand on my arm. "Can we reach one?" I asked desperately I felt so helpless. It made me furious. He disappeared into the cabin and returned with an armful of towels and blankets. "Not until the storm clears up," he frowned. "All the roads are washed out." I began to dry Scully off with the towels. The Boatman gave me a curious glance over his shoulder as he put the boat in gear, turned it around, and took the us deeper into the forboding swamp. X13 Dead Man's Party ---------------------------------------------- The Ju-Ju Juke Joint 2 pm, May 7, 1996 Blaring music floated above the incessant downpour as we neared the island. A sign nailed to the boat dock read, "Welcome to the Ju-Ju Juke Joint." Stapled below it was a flyer reading, "La Mer's Storm Party. B.Y.O.L.." "Bring your own lantern," the Boatman declared. He pointed toward the sign as he leapt out of the boat before it had safely pulled up along side the dock. "These people will celebrate anything," he mumbled, as he quickly tied the line. Judging by the overcrowded dock, it appeared as if the entire town of Canopus had descended on La Mer's place to ride out the storm. The Boatman steadied his aluminum boat for me. I jumped out onto the dock as delicately as possible with Scully's blanket-wrapped body held firmly in my grasp. I recognized the tune the band was playing. It was a sorrowful rendition of "In the Sweet Bye and Bye." "Sounds more like a funeral than a party." "You ain't in Kansas anymore, Agent Mulder," the Boatman misquoted with a sardonic smile, popping open an umbrella and motioning me over. I darted down the dock instead, leaving him in my dust, not caring about the rain. I had to get Scully to La Mer. His rapid footsteps squeaked on the wooden planks behind me. "It's a mock funeral," he called out, as if I was interested. "Music here is as much a part of death as it is of life. These people were already impoverished and now the flood has ruined what's left of their crops. Despite their hardships, they know how to live. Why should they die any differently?'' I didn't respond. If I were paying more attention I might have asked him what he meant by that, but my thoughts were focused on Scully. I turned onto the main strip of the dock and sprinted past an old fashioned gas pump mounted directly to the dock. Normally I might have been fascinated with it, but not today. "It's sad," he shouted behind me, "but sometimes death is the only thing that brings a family together." A blinding flash of lightning struck the antenna of a boat close by. I yelped and almost dropped Scully as my world turned to hot blues and whites. A powerful throbbing ache burned behind my eyes, as if I had just walked outside from dark interiors into glaring sunlight. "You okay?" the Boatman asked when he caught up with me. He pried my tightly-locked eyelids open. "Your pupils are dilated. You on some kind of drug?" "No." "Wait here." "Do I have a choice?" Being blinded produced irrational fear in me. I imagined invisible monsters attacking us on all sides. I clutched Scully closer to me and waited for the angry white pulsing spots to disappear. The Boatman returned and placed a pair of dark sunglasses on me. "Stay away from bright lights for awhile." I waited impatiently for my vision to clear. As soon as it did, I jumped onto the muddy bank, only to be impeded once more as I sunk down to mid-calf. The Boatman offered to take Scully off my hands. "No!" I twisted out of his reach in a fury. I wasn't about to hand a defenseless Scully to a stranger while I was trapped. It was extremely difficult to work free without having something to pull myself out with, and when I finally did break lose, I was rewarded for my stubbornness with a rude slurping sound and the loss of both my shoes. Cold mud oozed down my legs. The Boatman chuckled at my foolishness. "Stay away from the muddy areas next time." "Everything's muddy!" "Follow me." He lifted the umbrella to cover Scully. I was forced to follow him as we carefully picked our way along. He threw a sideways glance at me. "People used to say rain at a funeral washes away sin. When there's lots of rain, there's lots to wash away." I continued to ignore him. A new song floated above the downpour. It was an old sad Cajun song about Evangeline and Gabriel, two lovers torn apart on their wedding day. They spent the rest of their lives searching for each other only to be reunited years later with Gabriel on his deathbed. He died as they embraced, and she followed soon after. These weren't the hope-filled lyrics I needed right now. I angrily kicked open the door to the Ju-Ju Juke Joint and it fell off its rusted hinges. "How about you fellas play something a little upbeat ... like Taps?" I barked. The music stopped. A darkened room packed full of solemn people holding umbrellas, candles and flashlights stared at me in disbelief. Rain trickled from the ceiling onto the misshaped wooden floor, which sloped at a steep angle towards the swamp. On the stage overlooking the crowd stood an upright black coffin with its lid open, displaying a skeleton wearing a tuxedo and a top hat. Food dropped out of one man's mouth. I must have been a frightful sight, covered in mud and green slime, and wearing a black suit with sunglasses despite the oppressive darkness. "Can anyone tell me where to find La Mer?" The band leader with washboard swinging from his around neck, spoke up. "Are ya blue and do ya bleed?" A loud wail rose out of the crowd and all eyes locked to the stage. "I need to see La Mer!" I yelled. "Is da wolf at da door and ya'r loved ones in jeopardy?" "Oh YEH!" the crowd roared. The woman next to me tore at her hair. I pushed my way forward through the sea of bodies. "La Mer!" I shouted. "Den ya better listens ta me...." "Can someone *please* tell me where to find La Mer!" I repeated, as people continued to wail all around me. Some raised their hats, and others extended their arms, palms or fingertips, touching Scully and I as we passed. "Den remember da words of Da Baron Samedi, 'How about you fellas play something a little upbeat?'" The crowd went hysterical and the band kicked into a swinging rendition of "When the Saints Go Marching In." Umbrellas bobbed and waved in the air above the wildly gyrating crowd. "Baron Samedi!" A round pleasant-looking Haitian woman called to me as she scrambled over the frenzied mass of people. She wore a white turban and a long white dress with a gris-gris bag hanging around her neck. "It's my distinct impression that they're poking fun at you," the Boatman said. "That or it's a hell of a send-off for Old Skinny up there." I nodded towards the skeleton on the stage. "Baron Samedi!" The woman panted before me in excitement. "No." I clumsily fished my badge out. "Baron FBI. And you must be La Mer, the local Voodoo Mambo." "Vodoun," she politely corrected me. She looked at Scully and felt her forehead. "Manman Brigitte ill?" "We're not married. She's my partner, Special Agent Dana Scully. She's in a coma. Can you help her?" "Manman Brigitte not in coma." She removed her hand and looked at me gravely. "Manman Brigitte in a curse." "You're full of shit." "Baron ill too, uh?" She took out a rattle and shook it around me. "La Mer take care of Manman Brigitte, offer food sacrifice for da Baron." She pointed towards the bar and tried to take Scully away from me. I wouldn't let her. She raised an eyebrow. "Baron," she began respectfully. "She a grown woman, not a teddy bear." I made a quick excuse. "She's cold. I'm keeping her warm." "No. Da Baron afraid ta let go, lest da hand o'death snatch her away." Her gaze shifted to the view outside. Lightning flashed in the windows. "She not da one dats in danger." "If you can help her, please do it." She observed me in deep thought for a while. "Dis happened before. Someone took Manman Brigitte away from da Baron." I was amazed. "Are you clairvoyant?" "Da Baron blames himself?" I looked away in shame. "Manman Brigitte not ill. Da physical is fine, it's da spiritual dat lost." I gripped Scully tighter. That wasn't what I wanted to hear. "She stuck deep in dere." "Nightmares?" I asked anxiously. A clump of mud slid off of me to the floor. "Nasty ones." La Mer bent over Scully and placed an ear to her lips. "She say 'Confess sinner' over and over again." My jaw dropped. "She wanta help da Baron, but ta help da Baron is ta hurt da Baron. It her worst nightmare. She no come back." "We, we got in a fight...." I stammered. "I said some things...." "No, Baron," she interrupted. "We gots a spooks on da loose. It messin' with you. La Mer can tell dees things." "Lupie, I know." La Mer's eyes grew wide. "Shhh! Da evil one's spys are everywhere!" Lightning flashed and I caught a glimpse of Willy looking in the window from outside, watching us. "Da Baron knows about da evil child?" "Can we go somewhere more private?" La Mer urgently ushered Scully and I upstairs and into an eerie bedroom. African, Voodoo and Victorian styles melded in an uneasy blend. I thought La Mer should get a refund from her interior decorator. Low budget-earthy-romantic-primitive- creepiness went out of style last year. La Mer was busy lighting candles, so I took the opportunity to look around a bit. The continuous rain falling on the tin roof overhead created loud hollow metallic sounds. The tinny echoes intermingled with the muffled noise of people and music downstairs, creating an strange surreal atmosphere. Of course, the candle-covered alter showcasing grotesque demon sculptures didn't help much either. Above the alter hung a large wooden cross, and below that was a framed picture of Marie Laveau surrounded by twelve smaller pictures of Catholic saints. A human skull wearing a top hat rested below, and on opposite sides of the alter were two dolls made from Spanish moss. To the left was a bride in a gown of white. Her hand extended the length of the table and grasped the hand of her groom dressed in black. The finishing touch for the room's "look" were the two veves, or Voodoo symbols, painted above each entrance. La Mar noticed where my gaze had fallen. She pointed up to the markings. "We safe here." I nodded and laid Scully's limp body on the plush bed. I placed several layers of quilts on top of her. "Tell me what you know, La Mer." "Dose who know, ends up dead, dats what." I remembered the posting of thirteen missing people at the police station. "You think Lupie's a murderer, that she's responsible for all the disappearances over the last decade?" La Mer nodded. "Do you have any proof to back up that claim?" "La Mer seen da evil child kill Fluffy." She sniffled and fetched a framed photo of a white-long haired cat playing blissfully with a ball of pink yarn. "Fluffy," she sobbed, and then her face twisted in hatred. "Dat child an evil baka spirit! A Loup Garou!" "Werewolf?" I was intrigued by the accusation. "Why do you think that?" "I seen da Loup Garou kill Fluffy with her bare teeth! Blood smeared on her evil face." La Mer nodded her head, as if that was proof enough. I looked pleadingly at Scully for help. I knew she would have both guns blazing right now, shooting holes in La Mer's seductive theories. I decided to step up to the plate in her "absence." "If you saw Fluffy killed, why did you file a missing feline report? And how do you know it wasn't a stray dog you saw?" I scratched my wrist absentmindedly. "She drank da blood! Da Loup Garou drink da blood of da living!" "You think she's dead too?" "La Mer knows da stench of death! It a smell dat clings." She pointed at Scully. "Manman Brigitte reeks of it." "She's a forensic pathologist!" I blurted out. What the hell was I thinking? Bringing Scully here was a mistake. This woman was a nut. "La Mer sorry. La Mer not mean to insult da Baron. La Mer make clothes sacrifice. Burn des." She turned her nose up. "Burn away da stink." "No thanks. Tell me about the Sheriff. Is he connected to Lupie? Who's errand boy is he?" She looked around anxiously. "Baron protect faithful La Mer?" She looked at Scully, then at me. "Of course." She hesitantly looked back at Scully and frowned. "Da Loup Garou into da Petro. She a bokor practicing da black magic. Da Loup Garou poisoned da Sheriff. He die in a boatin' accident. Da Loup Garou bring him back as zombie slave." I was enthralled by her interpretation of events. "Here." La Mer took off her gris-gris bag necklace and slipped it over Scully's head. "Protection. Mojo hand. Baron look after himself now? Da Baron very ill. Let your servant La Mer help you." "May I?" I took the small pouch, and the oppressive heat in my body seemed to dissipate. I smiled and replaced the bag around Scully's neck. "Make me one, La Mer." "After da Baron clean up." I reluctantly agreed. I still had my doubts, but a curious calm had settled over me. Scully would be safe here until the storm cleared. I allowed La Mer to lead me to the washroom. She handed me the hurricane lamp while she cleared the tub of her makeshift moonshine rig. This must be where she made the Voodoo Hellfire and Voodoo Brew, both of which deserved the attention of the FDA for their addictive qualities. "So what's the *special* ingredient?" "Dey no *special* ingredient." "You wouldn't lie to the Baron, would you?" "Dey no Vodoun in the brew!" "Mmmm..." I picked up a grimy jar. "I wonder how many health violations you're racking up. I have a friend over in...." "No, Baron!" La Mer snatched the jar from me. "La Mer swear dey no *special* ingredient. People believe what dey wanta believe. La Mer gotta earn a livin." She didn't look like she was lying. "Okay, but clean this -- it's disgusting." She waited outside until I handed her my suit. "Wash. Don't burn," I commanded. "La Mer take care of dat. Take care of Mamman too. Clean her up nice and warm." "Thank you." "Merci, Baron." She paused, and then whispered, "It mango." "You use mango in your beer?" I blurted at her obvious embarrassment. She scurried away, mumbling Haitian curses under her breath. As soon she as she was gone, I snooped around her bathroom while the shower warmed up. Her toilet-side reading materials were very interesting. "150 Protective Charms Against Magic" "Marketing Through Suggestion and Fear" "Love Spells" "Marie Laveau on Healing, Advice and Fortune Telling" "The Idiots Guide to Voodoo" "How to Make Beer in Three Easy Steps" "Voodoo Fatalism: The tragic history of slavery that created a religion of despair" "Hmm." I flipped through the love spell book before picking up the bright orange Idiots Guide to Voodoo and scanning for the Baron Samedi. BARON SAMEDI (member of the Guede) Baron Samedi is the chic trickster Guede of the Americas. He is the spirit of resurrection, sexuality, history and buffoonery. Samedi is a clown, turning death into satire. He laughs on the outside and cries on the inside. He bites with sarcasm, mocks authority, and pokes fun at life's means of continuation because it necessitates death. His color is black, and he struts in sunglasses. He needs them when he moves beyond the gloom of the grave. Baron Samedi is the guardian of children. He does not like to see them die. Thus he is the Loa to go to when seeking help for a sick child. The Baron teaches that humor can pull one through dire circumstances. MANMAN BRIGITTE (member of the Guede) Manman Brigitte is a powerful Loa. She calls Baron her husband and rules, along with him, in the grounds of the cemetery. As a renowned judge and lawyer she is just, for she has balanced the great forces of Binah. Falsehood withers at her touch. No lies can abide in her solemn presence. Her color is purple and the cross is her symbol. Manman Brigitte teaches that correct judgement with the proper understanding of the situation at hand offers benefit, prosperity and understanding. GUEDE The Guede are the Loa of the dead. They hold the knowledge of the ancestors. The Guede's primary mission is to expose and reveal secrets, and they use their mediums for that purpose. When possessed by Guede, the mediums accurately see the past and future. The Guede's revelations are often both accurate and cruel. The Guede teach that one must first accept sorrow and know its boundaries before achieving transcendence. GUINEE The world of the dead, said to be underwater. THE CROSSROADS A central image in Voodoo. This is the place where the two worlds (earth and spirit) meet, the mirror in which one must confront one's true self. Odd. My eyes must be extremely dilated. I had no difficulty reading the passage with the dark glasses on. I took them off and wiped the condensation off the mirror. My reflection stared back at me in disbelief. My eyes were, in fact, dilated. They were also an iridescent blue. X14 Everyday is Halloween ---------------------------------------------- Upstairs at the Ju-Ju Juke Joint 4 pm, May 7, 1996 "Da Baron bel ga'con." La Mer stepped back, tilted her head and admired me. A bit too much, I might add. "If there's a funeral procession at the Oscars, I'll know exactly what to wear," I commented dryly, looking down at the dusty black tuxedo that now hung on me. "I hope I don't end up like the last guy who wore this." I cringed with disgust, knowing where she had gotten it from. Perhaps my soiled clothing wasn't as unappealing as I first thought. La Mer laughed and brushed a cob web off my shoulder. "Don't be silly, Baron. Dis a good suit." She popped the top hat to place on my head. "No thanks," I grumbled. "I've donned enough hats already." Allies, I reminded myself, biting down my frustration. I need allies. I shouldn't have griped about her Baron fantasy; it provided a convenient means of disguising my strange affliction. I hoped that La Mer could cure me, with or without the proper knowledge. Judging by her reaction to Lupie, my worries were more than justified. "Are you going to do the protection charm?" I queried, as I fidgeted with the quilt around Scully. "Manman Brigitte bel femme." La Mer was enjoying this too much. She had dressed us up in the roles of spooky groom and bride. Scully was wearing a long white turn of the century era gown. It wasn't the type of thing she would be caught dead in... er.... "Baron pale, need ta eat." "I'm fine. Get on with it." La Mer turned her back to me and walked to the voodoo alter. It sounded like she was making something -- I heard a bag being ripped open and liquids being poured -- but I couldn't ascertain exactly what concoction she was creating. I leaned to the side to see around her as my child's mind began to race. "So what do you..." "Ssssh," she motioned me to be quiet as she lit a white candle, "Da Loa in dis place now." She closed her eyes and chanted something in French. Grotesque shadows cast across her face in the glow of the candle. Then her eyes snapped open and handed me a sleek silver pen before opening a drawer hidden below the alter. I watched in fascination as she slowly withdrew a sheet of handmade paper seeded with dried flowers and herbs. I wondered if the flowers were from some type of magical occult plant and if they had been collected from some creepy place like a cemetery. She cocked her head, her black eyes bright with mischief. "Da Baron want Papa Gede to protect?" I nodded eagerly. She handed me the sheet of the floral paper as her grin widened. "Write on dis a statement da Baron feel strongly about, defend with his life. Fold it eight times and give ta La Mer." The pen scratched the surface leaving a dark red stain. "I don't sign anything in blood," I half-joked, worried that the "ink" had been drained from some poor creature. "Baron want protection from da Zombie? Gotta make Zombie sacrifice." I frowned and wrote, "The truth will set me free." I folded it and handed it to her. La Mer unfolded the paper and read it. "Hey! You aren't supposed to read it!" "No? How else da Mambo know what ta do?" she chuckled. "La Mer offer heat and light to Zombie." She held the paper over the flame of the candle and hummed along with the tune the band was playing downstairs. She then sprinkled the burnt remains into the bowl. It appeared to be filled with a flour and water mixture. La Mer then stirred in a five drops of red food coloring. "Food coloring?" "La Mer don't believe in using blood." She smiled. "La Mer favorite color red, use da red ta see da marking." She dipped a paintbrush into the damp doughy mixture. "Protection from da Zombie Sheriff." She took my hand and turned it over. "Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed, seeing the welt on my wrist. "It's nothing," I insisted. She eyed me suspiciously and drew a Veve over the top of the wound. It was symbolic representation of a coffin and a cross, with crisscrossing "X"s woven within the pattern. "Da Truth more powerful den da Zombie!" she shouted ritualistically. I admired her handwork. "Will this get me into Club Voodoo without getting carded?" "Zombie not try ta kill da Baron no more." "Now Scully." Scully would never have approved, but I did. I leaned down to reassure her, as if she had been arguing with me. "You can never have too much protection, Scully." A sudden loud crash on the upper gallery outside startled us. From the corner of my eye, I saw a fleeting shadow move quickly across the window. I pulled my gun and charged out into the storm after it. X15 The Shock of Miss Louise ---------------------------------------------- The Ju-Ju Juke Joint 5:38 pm, May 7, 1996 "Stop! Federal Agent!" I chased the shadow behind the Ju-Ju, but when I emerged on the other side of the building, there was nothing there. The only movement came from the continuous rain and the moss flapping from windblown trees. There were tracks in the mud. I placed a muddy foot next to it experimentally. The rain quickly washed my imprint away. I sighed and replaced my 9mm in its halter. Someone had definitely been snooping around back here recently. Very recently. I made my way back into the Ju-Ju. Drunken people were passed out all around the room, some hanging off tables, others asleep on the bar and one man face down on the floor in a pool of vomit. A large flashlight was shoved into the mouth of a stuffed alligator head mounted on the wall. Candle wax dripped from shelves full of Voodoo nicknacks, creating strange sculptures of waxen waterfalls. "Looks like I missed a hell of a party," I muttered, and kicked a disgarded umbrella out of the way. The sharply slanted floor was more visible now that the room had somewhat thinned out. The slope of it made me feel the sickness squeezing at my throat more keenly. I looked around the Ju-Ju for the person most likely to be Peeping Tom Willy. A study of the room provided even more evidence that Canopus seemed to be frozen in time, the late 1960's to be exact. There were no modern appliances and even the local fashion was retro. It reminded me of the deserted boom towns dotting dusty forgotten highways across America. A shapely woman in a tight red dress stumbled into me in her drunken stupor. I caught her just before she fell face forward. The severity of her drunkenness might have been an act, however; she looked like the type of woman who knew how to light up a seedy joint like this. "Baron, ma ami." She smiled wickedly, slurring her words in a sensuous tone. "I want da last dance, da banba." She reached around and squeezed my ass. I jumped and slapped her hand away. "Did someone come in here just now?" She started to reply, but her face suddenly contorted and she lurched forward. I quickly steered her over to a trash can before she could puke on me. As I steadied her, my gaze shifted to the floor, where I had tracked in mud from outside. I followed the messy trail across the room back to the entrance. Mine were the only set of footprints. Whoever was snooping around outside hadn't come in here. I turned back to my vomiting friend. "You okay?" I asked, handing her a napkin. She groaned and nodded. I helped her sit down at a table and showed her my ID. "May I ask you a few questions?" She squinted to read the name off my badge. "Not da Baron?" Her eyes wandered from my face to take in the rest of my appearance. I kept my expression neutral as I purposely ignored her shamelessly roaming gaze. "What can you tell me about the girl named Lupie?" "Da brooding femme?" She hiccuped unexpectedly and quickly covered her mouth in embarrassment. "Not much FBI. She has no friends. I hear only gossip, bad gossip. Gossip silly old men make up to scare deir grandbebes. It is sad for one to be so lonely," she sighed. "Ever since dose men brought her here, she hides up in dat..." I cut her off, "Someone brought her here? Who?" "Government people, I think. Both her parents were murdered when she was a little bebe. Da poor thing." Of course! That explains it. "Thanks, uh.." I paused, waiting for her name. "Miss Louise." She smiled warmly. "Miss Louise." I winked. "You should lay off the Voodoo Brew, I hear it has *special* ingredients." I pulled her out of the chair and twirled her around in a clumsy dance before dipping her as she fought to contain her nausea with a perplexed look written across her dark features. "Not da Baron?" "No. But I am wearing his underwear." I pulled her back to her feet. "FBI," she giggled, "You make me laugh." She stood up on her toes and kissed me on the cheek. Which was very sweet if one forgot that she puked only moments before. "Agent Mulder!" a voice yelled from behind me. I turned to see the Boatman scrambling towards me, holding the two duffle bags I had left at the shack by the police station. He froze in his tracks and stared at me, amused by my appearance. "Or should I say Baron Samedi? I figured you might need these after that story you told me." I quickly shrugged off the tuxedo jacket and unzipped my bag, looking for a T-shirt and spare set of shoes. "Scully and I both thank you for saving us from La Mer's twisted fantasy." I quickly checked to see if my precious cargo was intact. I found the journal perfectly dry and undamaged. I breathed a sigh of relief. "How is she?" he inquired. "She's okay, she's just sleeping." "Sleeping? If that was sleeping, I've never seen anything like it. She was completely unresponsive. I don't know, maybe it is possible to have a severe form of sleep paralysis, but..." Hmmmm.... My thoughts wandered as the Boatman launched into yet another one of his long winded speeches. Sleep paralysis was an interesting counter to La Mer's creepy theory. "...and why do you think she's asleep? You aren't actually listening to La Mer, are you?" Should I tell him? Oh hell, why not? "She's under attack by an incubus." "I see you have," he laughed. Then he frowned when he realized I was serious. "What's a fed like you doing believing in that crap? Voodoo is nonsense. It's all about mind control through suggestion and fear." "And how do you know so much, Einstein?" "By catering to the American public's taste for sensationalism." "What?" "I'm a freelance journalist, currently on assignment for a cultural magazine." He showed me an old-fashioned Nikon camera he had hidden under his arm. "And I thought coming to this cooky town would be a boring assignment. I think I just stumbled onto a story worth reporting on." "The X-Files aren't public domain, not yet, anyway." "X-File? What's that?" "Tell me what you know about sleep paralysis and maybe I'll give you the scoop of the century." The Boatman's eye's grew large and he whipped out a notepad. "Shoot." "There's a covert branch of the government that's been working with aliens for the last fifty years. They've been abducting people out of their homes at night to experiment on them in preparation for colonization." "Good one," he laughed and flipped his notepad shut. "I guess I deserved that. What should I call the story? 'Skirt-Wearing Hoover in Bed with Space Aliens?'" "How about 'The Truth Is Out There?,'" I smirked and started to turn away, "Hey, give me an alias in your story, how does 'Special Agent Chicken Little' grab ya?" He smirked back at me and shrugged. "Hey, who says the feds don't have a sense of humor?" A confused look suddenly clouded his face. "That's odd." "What is?" "These nutty alien abduction stories people have been spreading are very similar to those of people experiencing sleep paralysis." "Really?" Now I was intrigued. "What makes you think that?" "Well, for starters, I know that sleep paralysis is also the basis of the incubus and Old Hag legends. People with SP describe waking up and being unable to move, accompanied by the sensation of a strong pressure pushing down on the chest or back. The dreamers often believe an evil presence is responsible for their paralysis, be it spiritual, religious, psychological, mythological...," he paused, peering at me like a disapproving school teacher, "or apparently the more modern version of little green men." "How could they not know it's a dream?" "Because these visions seem so real, it's often hard for the sleeper to dismiss them as mere hypnogogic hallucinations." I thought about what he said. There were so many relevant points to his theory, beyond the strange events Scully and I were currently caught up in. "When Agent Scully recovers, I would like for you to meet her. You two would have some interesting topics to discuss." He smiled. "You're in love with her, aren't you?" I didn't let my surprise register. "She's my partner. I'm only doing what any good federal agent would do." "Like swimming through an alligator-infested swamp?" He raised an eyebrow. "How long has your *partner* been out?" "Twenty hours." "Twenty hours?" He mouthed the words incredulously. "Couldn't be sleep paralysis then." "Why not? It's a sound theory." "No. Paralysis occurs when the mechanism responsible for inhibiting body movement during REM sleep doesn't immediately shut off once the dreamer awakens. They *momentarily* experience the sensation of being paralyzed." "How do you know this stuff? Do you have credible sources for your information?" "Listen G-man, it's my business to gather and report the facts, even if they are for freak news events. Last year, some guy murdered his wife in his sleep. He actually thought she was a phantom monster. That's how I know about this stuff. Research," he grinned, "sweetens a story." "He was sleepwalking?" "Yep. Sleepwalking and sleeptalking are the opposite of SP. The brain forgets to induce paralysis and the sleeper acts out the dream." I closed my eyes and imagined the man's horror when he awoke to find what he had done. When I was a child, sleepwalking was a problem. One summer, while vacationing at the cottage in Quonochontaug, I had a nightmare that an evil squid monster was attacking me. When I awoke in the morning, I found myself in the surf tangled up in seaweed. After that, I was locked in my room each night to prevent me from wandering out into the ocean and drowning. A realization hit me without much satisfaction: Scully and I were, yet again, on opposites ends of the scale. Then a darker thought arose, causing the hairs to rise on the back of my neck. Maybe Scully wasn't the only one trapped in a nightmare. "How are you doing?" The Boatman reached to remove the dark glasses. I blocked his hand. "Don't. They're very sensitive to light." For an awkward moment, he stood quietly scrutinizing me. I was worried he wasn't going to buy my excuse. Then he startled me by picking up a napkin and wiping the edges of my mouth. "Are you having difficulty swallowing?" I raised my hand to my mouth, wondering how he had known to ask. "My throat feels tight." "Are you running a fever?" "Since yesterday." "Do you have a headache and malaise?" "Yes." "You experiencing a loss of appetite and vomiting?" "No vomiting, but I have felt nauseous." "Have you, er, been feeling a bit aroused?" "What kind of question is that?" "You know," he shifted on his feet uncomfortably, "horny?" "That's not something a guy admits to." He moved on. "Are you agitated, disoriented, hallucinating or experiencing a bout of paralysis?" "No more than usual." "Good. Then it's not too late. Do you recall having any other aversions other than to light, such as water, smells or mirrors?" "Just to people who know more than they're telling. What is it?" I wondered what 'freak event' he had reported on in the past to allow him to diagnose me like this. "Has an animal bitten you in the last twenty-four hours? Does the wound itch, tingle or is it completely numb?" Uh oh. I showed him the wound on my wrist. He groaned at the sight. "Voodoo is not medicine, Agent Mulder! You are seriously ill. Stay here." He snapped open an umbrella and rushed to the door. He stopped, hovering at the exit as he stared at the huge volume of rain pouring down outside, then before turning back to me, "If you need to evacuate before I get back, go to Old Bernie's. He'll take care of you." He paused. "How long since you've been bitten?" I did some quick math in my head. "Twenty-eight hours." "Good God! Why didn't you mention this before?" I shrugged. "It didn't look serious. Why? What do you think it is?" "Trouble," he shook his head and then he dashed outside into the storm before I could get a chance to question him further. I looked at the wound and I thought about what La Mer said about Lupie. X16 Moonlight Sonata ---------------------------------------------- Upstairs at the Ju-Ju Juke Joint 6:16 pm, May 7, 1996 When I returned to the upstairs bedroom, stacks of books were scattered about and Scully was laying peacefully on the bed like Sleeping Beauty waiting for her Prince. She was surrounded by nettles and small rocks, no doubt part of some Voodoo cure. La Mer slammed a large book shut. She was obviously upset with me. "Whoever it was is gone now." I said a bit awkwardly, not knowing how to read her. "La Mer know da Zombie gone." "I didn't mean to run out on you, I was...." La Mer cut me off, pointing an accusing finger at me. "You like da hound chasing anything dat move." I ignored her and sat on the bed next to Scully, carefully avoiding the stinging nettles. Scully looked like a sleeping angel. "Any luck?" "No." La Mer said folding her arms, watching me intensely. "Scully could be listening to our every word," I mused. "She could be screaming in there, buried alive inside her own body, and we wouldn't even hear a whimper." I glanced over at the suspiciously quiet La Mer. "Have you tried everything?" La Mer glared at me coldly, as if I had just insulted her. I turned my attention back to my unresponsive partner. There was one idea I had -- one I knew La Mer wouldn't have tried. I could almost taste a happy ending, and I didn't care what La Mer thought as I leaned down and whispered, "Don't worry, Scully. I'm going to get you out of there." I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, hovering over her expressionless face for a moment in self doubt. Was I crazy to think this would work? What if it didn't, would I read something into it? And if it did work, would Scully kick my butt? The very idea of her restored to her fietsy nature was all the encouragement I needed. I slowly leaned in, giving Scully plently of time to wake up and push me away. Then I kissed those lips that were as soft as I had always imagined they would be. "Wake up Scully," I uttered without a sound, moving my lips delicately across hers. No response. An unexpected tear of frustration fell down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away. "What a stupid fucking idea," I grumbled. What the hell was I thinking? I didn't want to look over and see what La Mer's reaction was, and it was only after a long uneasy silence that she spoke. "Manman Brigitte wanta know why da Baron bring her ta Canopus. La Mer wanta know too." "To investigate a crime," I lied. "No Baron. Manman Brigitte say, 'Confess Sinner.'" La Mer walked over to the alter and retrieved a flickering hurricane lamp. "Baron confess, maybe Manman come back." "I don't know what you're talking about," I lied again. "No? Manman think you a incubus in another lifetime. La Mer does too." She angrily reached over and smacked the sunglasses off my face. "You like dat evil child," she hissed and shoved the lamp in my face, making me cringe. "I am not! I'm just sick, that's all. I didn't want to frighten you about it." The tension was as thick as the dense moisture in the air. I refused to blink in the face of the blinding light, even as it caused hot tears to fall from my eyes. La Mer stood her ground without giving me the slightest indication of mercy. I began to feel my own panic mounting, but I refused to let her intimidate me. "Da Baron not an animal." She slowly lowered the lamp to my relief. "Here," she reached down and threw the sunglasses at me. "La Mer love you, boy, but La Mer sleep somewheres else tonight." X17 Talking In Your Sleep ---------------------------------------------- Upstairs at the Ju-Ju Juke Joint 10 pm, May 7, 1996 ---Something had changed inside of me. I could feel it but containing was as difficult as-- Blood throbbed in my ears, and saliva pooled on the edges of my mouth. I could feel the hot venom as it coursed through my veins. It felt as if a something was trying to claw its way out from deep within me. The party was long since over. There were no more muffled sounds of a band playing downstairs or the tapping of feet. There was only the rain beating against the tin roof, the hooting of an owl outside, and my fingernails rapidly scratching the bleeding raw flesh of my wrist. Scully and I were completely alone and every nerve in my body was painfully aware of that fact. I had been hiding for perhaps an hour or more in a dark corner, watching Scully in the flickering candlelight as a war raged inside my soul. I was captivated by the sound of her breathing and hypnotized by the rhythmic rising and falling of her chest. My only thoughts were committed to memorizing the curve of her hip, admiring the folds in the sheets, and wondering what treasures lay beyond her pale exposed throat. A claustrophobic sickness consumed me and I stupidly stripped off my sticky T-shirt as if I could somehow escape this torment. She was laying there so beautiful, so sweet, so seductive. Her fiery hair was like heat... heat surrounding her angelic face like a burning halo. A wonderful intoxicating fragrance hung in the air... a perfume that smelled like candle wax, Scully and sex. I bit my lip and crawled cautiously towards the bed. In a mighty pounce, I hopped on top of the mattress, making Scully's limp figure flop up and down. As I stared down at her heaving chest, a trickle of drool fell out of my mouth. The glistening drop slowly slid down between her breasts, causing an involuntary shutter to pass through me. The fire building in my groin required some dampening, some water or maybe... "Ice," I blurted, and then started to babble. "Ice Capades, Scully. I'm thinking about going to the Ice Capades. Sitting on a cold bench, watching two hours of exciting entertainment. Who can resist that?" Determination to fight the dangerous compulsions continued to wane within me. I just needed to hold out until the Boatman returned with a cure. I could have sworn she moved just then, perhaps to defend her purity from the evil Spooky lurking about. "You can hear me, can't you, Scully?" Her eyes snapped opened and she crossed her arms, covering her breasts. "Mulder," she glared at me. "Wake up! You're not a werewolf. You're dreaming!" "The thought had crossed my mind, as well as so many more enjoyable ones." I cracked a crooked grin and lovingly stroked her arm, "I missed you." "Leave me alone," she grunted. She then rolled over, covering her face with a pillow, irritated that I was disturbing her. "Wanna wrestle?" I snatched the pillow away and popped her in the face with it, trying to provoke a fight. "You won't let me have any peace, will you?" She threw the covers over her head. "Never." I smiled and clamped down on the corner of the quilt, tugging on it playfully, trying to pull it away from her. She attempted to yank it out of my mouth. I growled at her. She smacked me in the face. I laughed, devouring her anger. Erotic images filled my mind as I fought to contain the animalistic urges. I moaned and rolled on my back. Fleeting shadows of storm-toss tree limbs danced across the ceiling above me. My wrist was itching terribly, and I frantically searched for something better to scratch it with. I found a nice rough spot on the wooden bedpost and proceeded to work my wrist against it furiously, causing the entire bed shake with me as I grinded. "Scully? Do you believe in reincarnation?" "I believe that doing the right thing shouldn't have to wait for another lifetime." Or doing the wrong thing, I thought, as my free hand crept underneath the sheets. "Hey Scully, if people do come back, why don't they remember? Do you think it's a sin, like eating fruit from the Tree of Knowledge? Is ignorance really bliss?" "You tell me." She shied away, suspecting I was up to no good. I grunted a few times before speaking again. "What do you think shapes a person more, nature or nurture? Take identical twins, for instance. Twins raised together at birth develop different personalities, where as ones that are separated at birth develop amazingly similar lives, even down to their favorite toothpaste." My greedy fingers wandered over to her leg, slipped around the curve of her inner thigh and slowly slid upward. "If you have a point, Mulder, please feel free to make *IT*!" She gave me a swift kick and I dropped from the bed in a flurry of sheets, landing on the floor with a loud thump. An evil laugh escaped out of me and I crawled under the bed with a devious plan. It wasn't just her body I planned to fuck with. "Are you familiar with the concept of Ka? The ancient Egyptians believed the Ka came into existence when an individual was born. There is no English equivalent for Ka, but it's usually translated as 'double.' It was thought that when one died, they would meet their Ka in the afterworld." Scully leaned over the mattress, trying to see where I went. She looked wonderfully vulnerable hanging upside-down like that. "I have two words for you, Mulder: Ka-ka." Her face wrinkled in worry. "Mulder? Are you okay?" "What if you lived five hundred or five thousand years ago Scully, would you still be a scientist or something more in step with the ideals of your time?" I licked my lips in anticipation, knowing what she would do next. "I don't know, Mulder." She frowned, looking left and right, trying to discover my hiding place. "People are influenced by their surroundings, be it cultural or environmental. I suppose I'm no different. Why do you ask?" As soon as she had leaned so far that her balance was in jeopardy, I lunged for her cheek and licked it. She jumped with a start and I caught her fall from the precarious position with my hands holding her shoulders firmly in place. Lust crept into my voice and I purposely allowed my heavy lips to graze against the soft warm flesh of her neck. "What if you came back as an animal? What you have been?" Something primal briefly flashed in her eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as she did when she scrambled beyond my reach above the mattress. "I can safely say, I have never given a single thought to such a preposterous idea." I did a little victory dance and quickly jumped up on the bed, landing effortlessly on top of her. Pinned below my weight, she bucked and kicked, her arms struggling to break free from my grip. "Let go of me, Mulder!" "Sculla Sekhmet!" I laughed and did my best angry cat impersonation. "Reow! Hiss!" Her hand broke free and she swiped at me, leaving a stinging red warning across my chest. "Mmmmm.... you know what I like," I chuckled under my breath, admiring her handy work as if it were a badge of honor. She punched me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me, just in case I didn't get her message the first time. I sighed and rolled off of her to stare at the ceiling once more. "Hey, uh... Scully?" "What!" "er.... Sorry." She didn't say a word. "Scully?" I turned to check if she would forgive me, but she was laying there motionless, tangled in the sheets, and hopelessly tethered between life and death. There was no fight in her and there hadn't been since our argument yesterday. I looked down at my chest hoping to find her angry scratch marks, but no matter how much I wished they were there, they simply weren't. It had all been a hallucination. "There are limits to my self control, Scully." I got up and paced around the room, feeling the tension grow within me as as each second passed. I briefly considered an easy way to relieve my frustrations, but it was too humiliating to do in front of her. "And I'm not about to find out where those limits are." I quickly lunged for the bed and snatched the gris-gris bag from her neck before slinging it around my own. "Your protection needs to be redirected now." X18 No New Tale To Tell ---------------------------------------------- Upstairs at the Ju-Ju Juke Joint 2 am, May 8, 1996 What are nightmares but deep seeded anxieties bubbling up from deep within the subconscious? I pondered this question as I quickly unlocked the window from La Mer's bedroom. Everyone suffers nightmares. Some people are afraid of the unknown, others of losing loved ones. And then there are those who fear being controlled above all else. And I can think of nothing more terrifying then when that attack comes not from without, but from within. "Don't worry, Scully," I murmured as my sweaty hands slipped off the glass frame. "I'll be fine." But I wasn't fine. I thought the gris-gris bag would help me, and maybe it had. The itching had definitely subsided. However I had a new problem: I was dying of thirst. As soon as I opened the window, a cold blast of damp air rushed into the room, blowing out candles and sending the delicate chiffon curtains swirling in the air above me. I leaned out the window as far as I could to expose my bare torso to the elements. Icy water streamed down the length of my back and I began to shiver despite my escalating temperature. The frigid rain was a shock to my system, but I was grateful for the brief clarity it provided. I turned my face upwards to the stormy heavens and tried to capture the rainwater in my mouth. What little fluid I did manage to catch, I found difficult to swallow. Lightning forked across the blackness, and in that brief instant of illumination, I observed the boat dock had disappeared below the rising flood waters. "Great, just great." I scrambled back into the room. "And to think, I left the keys to the Arc at home." I halfheartedly wandered around, relighting candles and exploring the many Voodoo trinkets laying about. I needed a distraction, something to keep my mind occupied. "I'm sorry I got us into this mess, Scully. I had my reasons for wanting this case. It's not what you think. You see I wanted... I wanted to..." I sighed and fidgeted with the groom voodoo doll. "Let's just say there are things about me that you don't know." I wasn't sure where to begin. I felt as if I were standing on the edge of the abyss, and if I ventured too close, I might never be able to return. "You know statistics right, Scully? Okay, say you're taking a test over the length of a ten year period, only the test changes everyday. And say you happen to be extremely talented at taking this particular test. Now factor human error into the equation. What is your accuracy percentage rate?" I gave her a minute to think it over. "The best anyone could hope for, no matter how gifted you are, is 94%." I paused to let the idea sink in. "Do you know what my batting average is?" I slumped into the chair beside her and whispered, "I have a confession to make." I closed my eyes and began slowly. "My mission is clear. It always has been and it was waiting for me the second I said 'I know who I am.'" I reached down into one of the duffle bags and withdrew my cherished burden, an ancient book that smelled of dust and molded leather bindings. "This journal changed my life, Scully." I stroked the jacket as if it were the tender flesh of a lover. "My first X-File... pre-X-File actually. In fact, it's the mystery that convinced me to leave Violent Crimes." A small bitter laugh escaped from my lips, "...and I have no idea who sent it." "I know what you're thinking Scully, but let me assure you, a lot of tests can be run in six years. This journal *is* 500 years old and it *is* authentic." I opened the rotting book and gingerly flipped through its fragile parchment pages. The tips of my fingers trailed across indentations pressed in the surface by the quill pen of its author. It felt as if I were reaching across time to touch the heart of a woman I never knew. Or do I? An involuntary shutter ran down my spine. I read the inscription out loud. "'Nuachtan linn Fae de Clan. Clonmacnois Mainistir, Eire. Ceathair seachto ocht.' That's Gaelic for, 'The journal of Fae de Clan. Clonmacnois Abbey, Ireland. 1478.' "I had the entire volume translated. I also have it memorized, but the reason I'm showing this to you, Scully, is because Fae didn't just write about the events and people in her life. She was also a talented artist." I opened the book to a drawing. "Scully, meet the prodigy Incubi priest, Madra o'Shea." I held the sketch up to my face for her to compare. "Remind you of anyone?" I could easily imagine her rebuke. "Think about it, Scully, what does Madra do? Simple dream interpretation and advice. He gets inside people's heads, figures out what makes them tick, what they're afraid of. Simple psychology, right? Given the right training, anyone can pull off that stunt. Now take a leap with me and consider Anpu's role in the Hall of Ma'at. Anpu weighs the heart, peers into the very conscious of the deceased. How does he do it? They just 'looked' guilty? You see where I'm going with this, Scully?" She lay motionless, without any indication she could hear my words. A wave of shame and grief swept over me. "I want you to have it." I gently slipped the book under her hand. "It doesn't belong to me. "It was Fae's journal that inspired me to seek hypnotic regression. I wanted to recover my memories. Imagine my surprise when..." I paused bitterly at the irony, "you see, finding out about Samantha's abduction was an accident. I didn't know there was more to her disappearance at the time. I mean, sure I had strange dreams about the night she was taken, but I was going through a lot of shit at the time with the divorce and the..." Uh oh. That was *not* something I meant to confess. "Hey, uh, Scully?" I laughed nervously. "You wouldn't be pretending to be asleep, letting me hang myself out to dry, would you?" If she was, she was a pretty good actress. "Okay," I grinded my teeth. "I'm going tell you about it, but the second you come around, you have to promise you'll let me know before I give away all my darkest secrets. "My ex thought I was seeing another woman, but I hadn't. And she was pissed I had lied to her about my infertility. "Don't worry, Scully. I have working parts. Anytime you want to sample the merchandise," I wiggled my eyebrows, "you let me know. It's nothing a pair of frozen underwear wouldn't fix. "The doctors couldn't explain it. They thought I had a scrotal varicocele, but I checked out fine. There's nothing technically wrong with me." I crawled up on the bed beside her. "I have a theory," I tugged her sleeve, "about my unusual handicap. "I think nature obeys rules even when it seems none exist. Having children is a form of immortality. And you can't have more than one form of immortality." I tilted my head and considered the larger mystery. "I have a pretty good idea why I keep coming back, but why are you here?" Scully slept the sleep of angels with only the sound of the air rushing over and out of her lips offering any semblance of a reply. "This was where you were supposed to chime in and explain to me why you keep coming back." I waited patiently with the foolish notion that she would magically awaken to question me further about my exposed secrets, but I heard only the rain beating down overhead, interlaced by rolling thunder. The energy drained from me and my shoulders began to sag. It was too hard to see Scully crippled like this. I didn't want to dwell on it. I wanted to be near her, to feel her reassuring touch. I yawned and stretched, my legs spread to opposite corners of the bed as I snuggled her in my arms. I tucked her head comfortably below my chin. Maybe if I held her I could somehow purge the demons that plagued her and maybe she could gather strength from that to find her way home. A drop of saliva fell into her hair. "Never mind the drooling idiot," I joked not wanting her to worry about me. "He gets that way about a certain ass-kicking G-woman." Scully's heart pulsed steadily against me. My own was frenzied and uneven, but Scully has always been calming influence on me. My own pulse began to slow until we were perfectly in sync with each other. "You and me, Scully," I whispered. "We're gonna to save the world someday." The soft showering of rain lulled me into a trance. Don't fall asleep. I began to absentmindedly hum an old 50's do-wap song to the rhythm of her heart as I rocked her slowly to its beat. A bright flash filled the room, burning my eyes, but I didn't care. I felt safe with her. "It's too quiet in here," I smiled, "So unless you wake up now, you're going to find out just how tone-deaf I am." I stole a quick kiss on her cheek before singing the words softly into her ear. Do dodo do do Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go, Do dodo do do Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go, Do dodo do do I hate to leave you, but I really must say: Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight. I sighed and snuggled her closer. It felt so good to hold her in my arms. I loved being able to completely envelop her small frame in my embrace. Well, it's three o'clock in the morning, baby, I just can't treat you right, well I hate to leave you baby, don't mean maybe, because I love you so. Do dodo do do do dodo do do Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go, Do dodo do do Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go, Do dodo do do I hate to leave you, but I really must say: Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight. A yawn broke into my lullaby. The sounds of rain, crickets, and frogs all worked their magic on me. I closed my eyes. "Just for a moment," I lied to myself. "I'm not going to fall asleep." Do dodo do do do dodo do do Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go, Do dodo do do Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go, Do dodo do do I hate to leave you, but I really must say: Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight. A wave of calm washed over me. The room began to whirl and everything dissolved into black. X18 Goodnight, Well It's Time To Go ---------------------------------------------- Route One, Louisiana 5:31 am, May 6, 1996 A loud explosion erupted in my head. I felt the sensation of flying through the air, a loud splash and water bubbling up around me. I felt strange, disoriented, as if I were completely removed from what was happening around me. It seemed as if I were hanging upside down, the blood rushing to my head. I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see anything. Was I dreaming? Someone was nearby, struggling, with limbs flaying awkwardly against me. A dull roar echoed in my ears, and I thought I heard Scully's voice distorted through moving water. "Mulder," she moaned, "can you hear me?" She had only begun to stir when she suddenly cried out in pain. She sounded very distant to me then. I wanted to help her, to comfort her, but I couldn't lift my arms. I heard the familiar dial tone of her cell phone and three slow beeps. "Ambulance," she wheezed, between her gulps for air. A tinny voiced replied, "Ma'am, I need for you to speak louder." Scully's voice rose, colored with both anguish and determination. "This is Special Agent Dana Scully," she panted. "Please send an ambulance." "What is your location?" Scully grew silent, but I could hear her labored breathing. "Ma'am, I need for you to concentrate. Where are you?" "I think... we're..." her voiced trailed off, but she suddenly spoke with conviction. "We're between 45 and 50 miles south of New Orleans on Route One. We're in the water. A green Ford Crown Victoria. Please hurry, my partner... he's pinned under the dashboard. He has a severe concussion to the head." "...tell me what happened." "We were hit from behind. I didn't see who it was." Metal creaked. I felt a shutter and a sudden jerk downward. "Oh my God! We're sinking. Hurry!" "Ma'am, stay on the line. We'll trace your location. ...Mercy Hospital, I got a 10-50I in need of immediate medical assistance. Look for a submerged green Ford Victoria, approximately 45 to 50 miles south of New Orleans on Route One." "10-4, Mercy en route." "Mulder..." I felt her trembling hands grab my hair and pull my head up out of the water. I felt so heavy, like I was made of bricks. She shook me roughly, her voice barely audible to me to now. "Mulder! Wake up!" I wanted to hold her, to tell her I was fine. I wanted to confess to her all the secrets of my heart, but I wasn't able to form the words. "Car 78, you near Lafourche?" "...78, roger Lafourche." All stimuli grew faint. I could barely feel her frantic jerks to my arms or the water rising above my nose and trickling down my throat. "Hang on, Mulder, I'm going to get you out of there." Scully masked the panic in her voice, but I knew her too well to be so easily deceived. "...Car 78, respond to a hit and run, 10-50I, 45 to 50 miles south of New Orleans. Two Federal Agents are down in need of immediate assistance. Assailant car unknown...." Sounds and sensations faded, drifting away from me like ripples dispersing across water before settling back into a glassy sheen as if nothing had been there at all. Blackness. "Scully? Scully, where are you?" Silence. "Scully?" Suddenly a violent wave of intense heat flared up inside of me. I jumped with a start. Someone speaking to me, bringing me back to myself. "Ta tu ar ais ar a seanleim?" First thing I saw were two blue dots burning brilliantly in the darkness. Then my vision began to return and I realized I was looking at myself reflected back from La Mer's dresser mirror. A long strand of saliva hung from my chin and I was squeezing Scully so tightly that if she had been awake, she might have cried out in pain. "It was just a nightmare. A terrible, terrible nightmare." I pressed her closer against me, if that was at all possible, as I broke down and sobbed like a child. to be continued... ============================================== THE CONFESSION OF SIRIUS, PART 2 Coming October 31 Thank you for your readership, B.Black