by Parrot
jmccaw@clear.net.nz

rated Mature audiences.
Warning - description of rape.
 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Kitchen of holiday cottage
Bush Bay
Saturday 18th December
Mid Morning.

Scully slid a mug of coffee under her partner's nose and settled
herself  back in the chair across from him.  She spent a moment
absorbing the  fragrant steam, steeling herself for that first
scalding sip.  The liquid hit her veins and brought a false strength
to her jelly like innards.  It had obviously been far too long
between lovemaking if it left her feeling this weak inside.

But it wasn't really the lovemaking that was making her weak and she
knew it.  It was the feeling of dread emanating from her partner.  She
took another sip and raised her eyes.  'Okay Mulder.  Lay it on me.
Why am I supposed to hate you?'

He held her gaze for a second then looked down at his cup.  Then he
took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.  After all it might not
be as bad as he thought.  She had taken his other secrets rather
well. But, the little voice in his head said, she had actually known
about them anyway.  He brightened slightly.  Maybe she already did
know.  No.   He was quite sure she didn't.

He took another breath and then he asked.  'Do I seem familiar to you
Scully?  Did you think you'd seen me before?'  He looked up into her
puzzled face.  'Before you came to work with me?'

She looked at him hard and he was pleased to see her thinking, taking
his question seriously.  'I had seen you before,' she finally said.
'I attended a lecture you gave at Quantico on the value of evidence
seen in situ at crime scenes.  That was about a year before I was
partnered with you.  I had heard about you before that of course but
I'm fairly sure we never met.'

'We did,' Mulder said quietly.  He looked down and fiddled with his
mug.  'I saw you at that lecture and I knew you straight away.  I
could never forget.  I couldn't believe it.  Then I checked you out
and it all fit.'

'What fit?  What are you talking about?'

'San Diego Scully.'  He looked up into her blank face.  'Fourth of
July 1980.  On the beach, remember what happened then?'

Scully folded her arms and glared at him.  'I know what I was doing
July 1980.  Why don't you tell me your version.'

'But Scully...' Oh god.  He didn't want to have to spell it out.  He
didn't know if he could.  Surely she'd put it together now.

'You obviously need to say this Mulder.'

She wanted to hear it.  'Okay.'  His hand raked through his hair.  She
wanted him to say it. That was nothing really when it came to the
punishment he deserved. Even so his stomach knotted in pain.  'I don't
know where to start.'

'The beginning,' she said gently.  'Tell me like you were explaining
the background to a case.  Make me understand.'

'Okay.  Okay.'  He held out a hand to stop her touching him.

'I hated my Dad.'  It burst out of him.  'I hated him so much.  That
was why.  That was why I couldn't stay with him.  Not then, the
bastard.  I was supposed to be going to Dad's but I just couldn't.'

He looked up to gauge her understanding.  'He didn't hit me any more.
I was too big for that but he was cruel in other ways.  He didn't want
me.  Mom didn't want me either and I was supposed to spend two
weeks with him.  So I just didn't go.'

He took a deep breath.  So far so good.  'I was nearly 18 and I was
miserable. I stood on the side of the interstate with my thumb stuck
out and hopped in to the first truck that stopped.  I got out
somewhere and got another ride, and another.  A trucker tried it on
with me and I decided trucks maybe weren't a good idea so I went for
cars after that.'

He looked carefully up from under his fringe to see Scully's eyes
squarely on him.  'I met some guys in Pittsburg.  They were from New
Jersey and had just decided to head for California.'  He shrugged.
'They were going the long way.'  His mouth wrinkled into a wry grin.
'It didn't seem so odd when you knew them.'

He stopped for a moment remembering that strange time.  'Their
names were Wayne, Barry and Dean Weaner, Baza, and Diesel.
They were trying to be bad.

'I don't know Scully.  I think they fancied themselves as outlaws.  I
guess they didn't get much chance for that in New Jersey and this road
trip thing they were on was a way to act out all the bad old movie
rolls.   I only figured that out later.  Then I thought they were
really bad and it was cool.  God Scully it was good.  I'd tried so
hard to be good all my life and it never got me anywhere.  Mom didn't
notice, I could have  been good, bad or indifferent.  Dad hated me
whatever I did, at school  I just got teased.  But I kept trying so
hard to be good because I  thought one day...' Even now the thought
brought a huge lump to his  chest.  He whispered.  'I thought one day
they might be proud of me.

'But with those guys,' He forced a sickly smile.  He couldn't stop and
face Scully's pity.  'They didn't know I was a good boy.  Hell, they
didn't even know I was supposed to be really bright.  They didn't care
and it was so good to be bad.'

He looked up to see Scully's gaze was full of tears.  Don't pity me
Scully.  I don't deserve it.  'We did some bad things Scully.'  She
didn't say anything.  'God, I'm so sorry.'

He buried his face in his arm and started when he felt her hand on his
head.  Didn't she understand?  Did she still not get it?  'Jesus
Scully.   Don't you see?'

'Keep talking Mulder.  You tell me.  I want to hear you say what
you've done.'

He screwed his eyes tight shut but the world didn't go away.  It was a
major effort to get his breathing back under control.  'We did some
gas stations.  You probably don't know about that.'  Hurried on
before she could answer.  'We never hurt anyone.  There was a
convenience store too.  And we did drugs.  It was the drugs that were
the problem.   That's why it happened.'  If he chewed his lip any
harder it was going  to bleed.

'Go on Mulder.  Tell me how it happened.'

'Scully.  Please.'

'Tell me.  You've got this far.  I want to hear it.'

'It was the drugs.  We tried different sorts but it was the pills...
I think  they were speed but I don't know.'

'So what happened?'

Christ!  'It made me horny!'  He looked up and glared at her, could
feel himself flushing red with mortification.  'God it beat viagra
hands down.  I would be so aroused I could hardly control myself.  I
was whacking off all over the place.  The guys thought it was really
funny.  That was how I got my knick name.  They called me "Meat".
Couple of times Baza even sucked me off.'  He buried his face in his
arm again.  'I don't know Scully.  I was a virgin.'  His words were
bitter.   'No girl I knew wanted to come near me.  I was too weird.
Except there was one cheerleader for the basket ball squad.'  His
breath hitched as he remembered the humiliation.  'I thought she
really liked  me.  I'd kissed her.  I thought we might even, you
know...' He made a  mewling noise of hurt.  'Then I found out she was
only seeing me for a dre.  No one in their right mind would want to
be involved with "The  Crazy Fox".'  He couldn't go on but Scully got
the drift.

She left him quiet for a moment then said quietly.  'What happened in
San Diego?'

He spoke into the tabletop.  'I thought I might be gay see.  The only
people who had ever fancied me sexually had been men.  I didn't
know.  I didn't think I was but guys obviously fancied me.  And it
felt  good when Baza went down on me.  Maybe I was.  He wanted me to
do more but I wasn't too keen.'  His voice tapered off.  He took a
minute or two to marshal his thoughts.

'We'd got to California.  We had a bit of money so we could have
found somewhere to stay, but that didn't fit our image of ourselves.
Fourth of July we went down onto this beach near San Diego and lit a
fire and cooked sausages and toast.  We saw the sun set over the water
and it was magic.  It was a good time Scully.'

He felt rather than saw her nod.  'We had smoked some dope, drank
some beer and then someone brought out the pills.  I was pretty wasted
already and then the pills made me horny and wasted.  I lay there with
my dick pointed at the stars and remember we were talking about
whether I was gay or not.  Baza wanted to sit on my dick.  I probably
would have let him too but Diesel reckoned I wouldn't know if I liked
guys or girls until I'd screwed a girl.  He was feeling it too.  He
wanted  some action. So we decided we had to find some girls.'

Mulder shuddered and tried to bury himself deeper in the protection of
his arms.  He hated talking like this in front of Scully anyway but he
had to let her know why the rape had happened.  Not that it excused it
but he wanted her to know how he could have done something like
that.  He felt like he was speaking through a mouthful of mush when
he continued.  'There was a house farther along the dunes and there
was a party going on.  There were lots of lights and music.  We could
see lots of people.  We were going to try and crash it'

He looked up, his eyes bleak.  'But we didn't have to did we?'

Scully licked her lips.  'Keep talking.'  He could see she got it now.
  His heart and his hands felt like ice.

'Two girls came walking along the beach.  They were really pretty.
One was blonde, a real cheerleader type and the other one...' He
choked.  'She was different.  She was smaller and... softer.  Her hair
glowed like an extension of the fire.'  He was mumbling into the
tabletop now and Scully moved closer to hear.  'I thought you were
lovely.  I'd never seen anyone with hair like that.

'You came walking along until you saw our fire in the dunes and you
held back.  Then Weaner called out and asked if you'd like a drink.
You said that you would and you came and sat by our fire and I
couldn't stop looking at you.  We all drank and you smoked some but I
could tell you hadn't smoked before but your friend had.  God you
both looked gorgeous by our fire and Diesel and I had to go for a swim
and jack off in the water cause you looked so good.

'When we came back Weaner and your friend were making out.  They
were grunting and groaning and bouncing up and down just behind the
fire.  They must have been really wasted or else they liked being
watched but it made me so hard again.  You were sitting there all prim
and proper and pretending nothing was happening.  When we came
back you told her that you'd both better go back but she didn't hear
you of course.  But Baza said you couldn't go back yet cause you had
to kiss me.  You didn't want to but Diesel said you could kiss him
instead and he grabbed you.'

Mulder couldn't stop now.  Twenty years of festering memory was
finally venting.  The words tangled with snotty sobs.  'You fought him
and started to yell but your friend was bucking away on Weaner.  She
was too far gone to care.  She wouldn't have heard you anyway.  No
one else could hear you, then Diesel slapped you and told you to shut
up and you wouldn't get hurt and you must have decided that was the
best thing to do.  You were wearing a blouse and a skirt and Baza
ripped your top and I went for the skirt.  You just lay there and I
got  your pants off and... and...'

'Oh Scully!'  He retched.  'The noises the others were making and I
was so drunk.  God!' he moaned.  'God!  Oh God!

'I just ripped my trunks off and shoved into you and you just lay
there.   Then Baza shoved his dick in your mouth and I came.
Christ!'

Mulder gave a hysterical giggle.  'That was my first time and I guess
it  was your's too.  Then you bit his dick and he screamed and Diesel
whacked you.  Then Diesel shoved me out of the way and he had you
too and Baza just sat in the sand and howled.'  Mulder pulled his hand
over his mouth and fought back nausea.  'Then I saw your eyes.'

He realised he was rocking, bumping his head on the table.  Scully
wasn't saying anything and there was no way he could look up at her.
No way in hell.  Christ, the memories of that night must hurt her
enough without discovering that he had been not only a part of it, but
the cause of the rape in the first place.

He finally drew a breath and tried to carry on.  Scully remained
silent.

'I could see it in your eyes.  What we'd done to you.  And I just got
up and ran away from there.  And I kept running.'  He was sobbing
hard now.  'I felt so sick.  I didn't want to be bad any more.  I'd
done something so bad.  It was all my fault.  And I'd ruined you.  I
knew that.  I'd hurt you so bad.  I didn't know who you were but I
knew that.   So I just ran and I didn't stop.  I think my mind shut
down and I couldn't do anything other than run, I ended up getting
hit by a motorhome two days later on a freeway somewhere near
Anaheim.'

He cried for a couple of minutes and then kept talking.  'I was hurt
pretty bad.  I don't remember much.  They called my Dad and he came
out and fixed things up somehow.  The accident was miles from San
Diego and I don't think I was ever connected with the rape but they
wanted me for the gas station robberies.  I don't know what he did but
there are no records of it that I know of.  I was mad at him.  I
wanted to go to prison.  But I went home with him until I was well
and then he packed me off to England.

'We never ever talked about it.  Not ever.'

Scully still didn't speak.

'I've never forgotten.  I hated myself.

'Then I met Pheobe.  She was really good at flagellation.'  He
snorted.   'At least we figured out I wasn't gay.'  He still couldn't
look up. He  wondered if he might be sick now.

'When I saw you in that audience at Quantico I thought you'd
recognise me for sure.  Then when nothing happened, no police
knocked down my door, I thought maybe it hadn't actually been you.
But I looked up your background and you checked out.  Your family
had been in San Diego then and I guessed you just didn't want to bring
it up.  I thought maybe you were afraid to...

'Then, then when I heard you'd been assigned to be my partner...
God Scully, I felt so sick.  I was sure you must have recognised me
and you had been plotting and now you were going to bring me down.
You were going to debunk my work and I don't know...  You were
going to earn my trust and then let me down.  I thought maybe you
were even going to let me get myself killed.    I couldn't trust you.
I  would have deserved whatever you threw at me but I was really
frightened.

'And you didn't.  You didn't say anything.  And I waited and waited.
I couldn't decide if you were a really good actor but then you seemed
to care about me.  It made me so paranoid waiting for you to let me
down.  And you know I do paranoia so well.  But nothing happened
and my instincts started to tell me that you were for real and you
really  did care.  You couldn't do that if you knew it was me that
raped you.   So then I figured that you didn't recognise me.  I guess
I had been pretty scruffy and dirty that day and you'd have had no
reason to associate me with that time.  I was starting to care about
you so much, and to trust you.  But I kept waiting for something to
trigger those memories and for you to realise it was me.'

Mulder's rambling's were nearly incoherent now.  'But it didn't. So
sometime or another I knew one day I would have to tell you.  I
thought you might bring up the subject of rape one time if we had a
similar case.  But you never did.  I wondered if you had repressed
your  memories.  I thought that if you ever said anything about being
raped  then I would tell you.

'I started to love you Scully.  I know you loved me.  But how could I
let you touch me?  I couldn't let you touch me.  What would happen if
we were making love and then you remembered?  I was a coward.
And I didn't deserve you.  I'd done the worst thing to you that a man
could do.  How could you love me if you knew that?  It was much
easier to act stupid and put you off.  I didn't give a damn about
bloody unwritten fucking work rules.  I just couldn't let you get too
close.  I thought one day you'd give up and go away and then I'd have
my memories and I could go back to being a miserable lonely bastard.
But when you did come and tell me you were leaving I fluffed it.
Completely.  Christ.  My mouth just ran away from me and I told you I
couldn't go on without you.

'I couldn't.'

He took a deep breath and looked up.  'I still can't Scully.  I really
really love you Scully and I finally have to stop being a coward and
tell you the truth.  That way,' he bit back a sob.  'At least you'll
be making your decision based on all the facts.  I can live with
that.'  He dropped his head back onto the table.  'But I wanted you
to know before we made love.  You hijacked me this morning and I
couldn't stop myself but I won't take the blame for that.'

An uncomfortable silence settled over them.  Mulder was shaking with
spent emotion.  He was exhausted.  The only other person he had ever
told this story to besides his father was Phoebe.  His father had
waited until they were in a motel room the day he came out of
hospital and had given him his last ever beating.  Dad had knocked
him out but he must have kept hitting.  The bruises merged with the
bruises from the accident and no one ever noticed.  Phoebe, in a move
that was very characteristic had enthusiastically brought him to
arousal and jumped on him when he'd told her.  The sick bitch.  His
story had turned her on.  Now he'd told Scully he didn't know what to
expect but he was actually relieved to have told her.  He couldn't do
any more.  It was up to her now.  That was a relief.  He felt cold
and drained.  He was light headed and wanted nothing more than to
return to bed and pull the covers over his head, never to emerge.
Maybe he'd throw up first.

She still didn't say anything.  He wondered if he sat there long
enough  if he would just die.  He heard her move over and sit on the
couch.

'Scully?  I don't know what else to say?'

He could hear her breathing.

'I know I should have told you years ago.  I know that.'  Wearily he
turned his head to look at her.  Her face was streaked with tears.
'God  I hurt you so bad.  And then you must feel so betrayed.  To find
out  after all this time that it was me.'  She shook her head.  'I'm
sorry  Scully.  I'm so sorry I hurt you.'

'You didn't,' she said softly.  Her first words for a long time.

'What?' he whispered.

'You didn't hurt me Mulder.  You didn't rape me.'

'Oh for Christ sake Scully!'  He found himself shouting.  'Don't give
me that. You can't take away my guilt for this!  I know you let me do
it but just because you didn't fight doesn't mean it wasn't rape.  You
can't make me feel better.  I'm not stupid. There was no way that was
consensual.  That was a rape on that beach.'

'Oh I don't doubt it was rape all right Mulder.  It sure sounds like
one to me and you ought to feel guilty for it.  But,' she paused to
make sure he was following her, 'It... wasn't... me...  You didn't
rape me.   I wasn't on that beach that night.  I have not been raped,
in that sense anyway.  You didn't hurt me.'

'What?!'

Scully shook her head sadly.  'It wasn't me.  I never denounced you.
I  never plotted against you.  I couldn't have because I had never
seen you before that lecture at Quantico.'

'Oh Jesus!'  His body shook with horror.  Scully didn't go to him.

When he'd calmed a little she said.  'I think I know who she was.  Her
name was Christine Wills and she did look a bit like I do now.  She
was a bit older than me and I know she got raped on the beach at
Kathleen Elacourt's Fourth of July party.  I wasn't invited.  I didn't
fit in with that set.  When we heard about it it was pretty scary.
None of us went near the beach after dark again.'

It ruined her life,' she said coldly.  'I don't know what happened to
her later but I know her grades dropped and she was away from school
a  lot.  I used to think she was pretty but she didn't seem to be
after the party.'

The silence stretched out, broken only by their shaky breaths.

'You know Mulder,' Scully said almost casually.  'A lot of things
make sense now.'

'Scully.  What am I going to do?'

'I don't know.'  She got up jerkily and went and started throwing
dishes in the sink.  'I think it's too late to do anything.  I don't
think  Christine would be pleased to hear from you, whatever her life
is like now.  Even if you could find her.'

'Aw Christ, fuck Scully!  I'm sorry.'  He cried some more.  Scully
cried too with her hands in the sink.  After a while a glass of water
appeared by his elbow and he drank it messily.  He sank his head back
into his arms.

'What about us now?'

'I don't know Mulder.  This changes a lot.  I need some time to think.
  Just...  Just leave me alone for a while.'

He nodded and swallowed.  'Okay.'  He stood up swaying slightly.
'I'll pack my stuff.  I can go out on the mail boat at lunch time.'

'No.' She smiled wetly at him and placed a hand on his arm.  'I didn't
mean that.  I just want a bit of space now.  Go for a walk or
something.'

'Okay.'  He felt weak, stunned by the events of the morning.  Without
another word he stumbled out the door.
 
 

As the sobs that had racked his body subsided Mulder found himself
curled, chilled and cramped on the cold concrete top of the water
tank.   Head pounding, nose streaming he struggled to a sitting
position and  realised he had no recollection of getting to this place
and no idea how  long he'd been lying there sobbing his heart out like
a bereft two year old.  Dressed only in the shorts and tee shirt he'd
thrown on in his hurry to get out of the bedroom in the morning he
realised that the day was much cooler than it had been previously.
Through the trees the sky was overcast and a wind was working up
quite a chop on the open waters of the sound.  He needed to blow his
nose and as nothing else was at hand he reached for the hem of his
shirt, only to stop and stare at it in disgust.  He's obviously been
sick at some stage too.

Pulling his knees up he wrapped his arms around them and rested his
head on his knees.  He was so tired.  God what a monumental cock up.
A stray sob caught him and nearly set him off on another round.  He
tried to think logically without reverting to emotion but every time
he  thought back to that girl on the beach he saw, as he had done for
seven  years now and he was sure he had always done, Scully's face.
He had  been so sure.  He couldn't get over it.  How could it not have
been her?   The fact that it wasn't, he couldn't figure out whether
that made things  better or worse.  He was still a rapist.  He'd tried
to hard to atone for that but it still held true.

The telling of his tale had brought back all the distress he felt
about that July night in such exquisite detail that he felt little
different from how he had felt as he had run from the scene nineteen
and a half years ago.  Maybe that was the reason that after he
clambered off the tank  and washed his face and drank from the stream
he turned up hill and  followed the track farther into the bush.

God.  What must Scully think of him now?
 

Oh poor Mulder.  Poor poor Mulder.  Idly Scully pegged washing on
the line strung between the corner of the cottage and a tree.  Mulder
was one of the most decent human beings she had ever met and now
the shock of his story had worn off she could see him as nothing other
than another victim of the events of that day.  After all the shitty
things that had happened in his childhood, it was so unfair that
something like this had happened to him too.  The guilt of it could
so easily have destroyed him.  In a way she supposed it had.

She reached the last garment, a pair of Davy's shorts and turned to
look out towards the bay.  The sky was clouding over and a wind was
coming up.  It looked like it might even rain later.  Hopefully the
washing would have time to dry before then.  There was a little
clothes drier tucked into the tiny laundry but there was something
about hanging clothes outside.  She loved the thought of it.  She
didn't want to use the drier.

She left the basket and wandered off towards the beach.  How the hell
had he mistaken that Christine Wills for her?  Oh god, no wonder he
took so much guilt on board every time something bad happened to
her.  No wonder he was so protective.  How would he have behaved if
he hadn't believed that?  Her mind replayed hundreds of incidents over
the years, large and small.  Antarctica, her cancer...  Jesus, years
ago  he had even exchanged a woman he believed at the time to be
Samantha.  He'd traded Samantha for Scully in a botched hostage
swap.  Samantha his Holy Grail!  Even at the time she had wondered
at his motives but he had been in too much pain to question.

Their whole partnership was built on a misconception.  Mulder's
responses to her were founded on his belief that he had perpetrated a
crime against her.  Her belief all these years that he cared for her
just  didn't stack up.  No, she couldn't quite believe that even with
the  evidence to the contrary.  He did care for her now.  If she were
honest  she would have to say she was sure he really had for years.
But she couldn't be sure could she?  Not now.  And the fact was he
hadn't to start with!

His reticence about a real relationship was for no reason she could
ever have imagined.  God it just blew her out of the water.  What
might their relationship have been?  Would he even have given her a
chance in the first place if he hadn't felt that obligation.  God
what a mess.  She wandered disconsolately onto the jetty.  She looked
around expecting to see Mulder on the beach somewhere but the place
seemed deserted.  The boys were missing too.  She wondered where
Mulder had gone.

And then there were the other parts of his story.  Little throw away
lines as though he didn't think those details important.  His efforts
to  "be good", to make his parents proud of him, the girl who had only
gone out with him for a dare.  It broke her heart.

She sat down and dangled her feet over the edge.  She really wished
she could talk to her mother.  She had no idea what time of day it was
a home and the maths for working it out eluded her over wrought brain
right now.  She gazed down into the clear water.  Schools of little
fish were clustered around the pilings.  Fox Mulder was a good man.
Yes he had raped someone but he hadn't been alone.  However she had
come to own the feeling, she loved him.  She loved him too much to
be able to condemn him for being involved.  And he'd suffered so
much because of it.  Jesus what a way to loose your virginity. In a
way she suspected he'd been trying to make up for his crime ever
since, not just with her but his choice of courses and career.  His
length of time working for VCS had undoubtedly been due to guilt, no
one in their right mind would choose to stay in that line of work
once they realised the effect it had on their health.  She doubted
the guilt of that attack had sat as heavily on the other participants
as it had on him.  It was a shame his father had covered it up.  If
he could have faced up to it, made reparation somehow, he could have
moved on.

And hells teeth, the truly unbelievable bit, Scully covered her face
with her hands feeling something akin to despair, for the last six
years  he'd been working with and falling in love with the woman he
thought  was his victim.  It could only happen to Mulder.  No wonder
their relationship went no where.  She gave in to tears.  No wonder
he was so screwed up.
 
 

Mulder settled into a steady jog as he headed up the track.  He wasn't
thinking but if he had been he would have planned to follow the track
until it met the road and then follow the road until he was exhausted
enough to return.  He held his arm close against his chest, as he
hadn't  even picked up his sling in his hurry to dress.  It was a
relief to get his  body moving.  He started to warm a little and the
aches of his body  served to blunt his emotional pain as he had
unconsciously hoped they would.

He hadn't yet got to the stage where the physical body took over
completely and for now his mind was on a type of continuous replay
loop.  He staggered through the story over and over again wondering
what he could have said, how he could have said it, anything that
would have made things better.  Interposed with that was memories
from that night on the beach.  His arousal and attraction to the girls
and especially the red headed one.  How intoxicated he'd been and
finally his unforgivable urge to fornicate with her.  Christ how could
he have done that, the look in her eyes, her disgust and the sight of
Baza's great red cock in her mouth.  It all mingled into a horror soup
of images and guilt and disgust.  Blinded by tears he pushed himself
harder and faster up the hill ignoring the pains of his body that
hadn't run for weeks, the ache in his lungs and the sharp stabs from
his arm as it knocked against him.  He drove himself on and on.

Rounding a bend he nearly ran full tilt into a figure standing there.
Pulling up with a jerk and flailing arms he stood panting.  He stared.

'What the fuck do you want?' he screamed.  'Have you come to warn
me of something?  Well you're too fucking late.  I've already fucked
up.  I've just lost the only woman I've ever loved and my life is over
okay.  So I don't give a damn about whatever the hell it is.  Just
leave me alone.  Piss off!'  He advanced on the Maori warrior ready
to give him a thrashing.  He'd have attacked nearly anything at that
point.  The warrior seemed to recognise this and retreated backward
up the track, high stepping and arrogant, arms crossed and a look of
disgust upon his tattooed face.

After about six backward steps he stopped and held his ground.  His
arms unfolded and assumed an unmistakable fighting pose, his eyes
wide and nostrils flaring.  Wisely Mulder stopped.  They stood there
staring at each other while Mulder tried desperately to catch air in
his  heaving chest and clear his mind enough to decide what to do.

As Mulder's breathing became easier the warrior relaxed a little.  He
stood with his head slightly sideways and studied the other man.  He
nodded his head as if he understood something of Mulder's distress
and sympathised with it.  But it was a disdainful sympathy and as soon
as Mulder had regained control he gestured with his head and led off
onto a nearly hidden smaller trail than ran steeper up the hill.  He
went  a few paces then turned to see if Mulder was following.  He
wasn't.   He was rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do.  'Hee,' the
Maori man  said.  He beckoned.

Mulder knew he shouldn't.  He knew he was too shell shocked to
make a decision about anything, and yet in spite of himself and his
emotional turmoil, he was still curious.  He took a step.  It was a
definite path the man, or ghost, or whatever he was, was leading him
up.  What harm could it do?  He could always come back whenever he
wanted to.  Right?  Yeah right.  Anyway, who gave a damn?  He
stepped off the main path and followed the warrior deeper into the
forest.
 

Thundery clouds were building over the hills at the head of the sound.
   Although the sun still shone on Bush Bay the wind was cold.  Scully
finally got up from her place on the end of the jetty and followed the
sound of voices into Mrs Mac's front garden.  Mrs Mac, sitting on an
old canvas golf stool and wearing rubber boots in place of her
slippers  was directing the boys in the task of digging potatoes.
They already  had a bucketful when Scully arrived.

Mrs Mac smiled when she saw Scully.  She indicated that Scully
should sit on the grass beside her.  'The first of the crop,' she
said.  'I  always like to have new potatoes for Christmas.  We'll have
new peas and carrots, maybe a cauliflower, our own ham, smoked fish
and  strawberries.  All,' she said proudly, 'raised here.'

Scully smiled.  It seemed idyllic.  This place with its seemingly
simple life held huge appeal right now.  She was so tired of life
being a struggle.  If it wasn't a struggle for survival it was a
struggle for sanity itself.  It had to stop.   She suddenly wondered
if the Consortium even knew this place existed.  Could they hide away
here and heal?  Could they stay here and let the world and its
conspiracies pass them by?

She became aware that Mrs Mac had asked her something.  'I'm
sorry.'

Mrs Mac was looking at her with concern.  Then she turned to the
boys.  'Tell you what fellas, you can have those for your tea.  Take
those spuds over to your place and find something to put them in.
Then you can come back and dig some more for me.  Go on now.  Run
along.'

When the boys had obediently run she turned back to Scully.  'Dana,
tamariki.  What's wrong?'  She hustled her up.  'Come inside.  We
need a cup of tea.'

Mrs Mac made a pretty good substitute for her mother.  Scully told her
everything.  She couldn't think of any reason not to.
 
 

Mulder's body was starting to tell him he'd had enough of pushing up
hill.  He was no longer running but Rangitu was setting a brisk pace
and they had been going predominantly upwards for nearly an hour
now.  Mulder's breath was harsh in his chest and his head was
pounding, throbbing in time to his rapid pulse and exacerbated by his
stumbling steps.  He followed Rangitu's brown back through tangled
undergrowth up a track that had become so faint he wouldn't have
seen it if he hadn't been following someone.

Rangitu seemed undeterred, both by the elusiveness of the track and by
the gradient of the hill.  But then it wouldn't bother him would it,
not if he were a ghost.  He wasn't breathing was he?

That thought gave Mulder a start.  Was he breathing?  Was that really
a ghost in front of him?  In spite of everything, he wasn't sure if he
really believed in ghosts.  He quite liked the thought of ghosts, but
unlike aliens he'd seen no real evidence to support the theories.  And
in spite of what Scully seemed to believe he did actually need some
evidence to believe in something.  That was why he could never quite
get it on with god.

The man in front looked solid.  He certainly seemed to be more than
just ectoplasm or whatever the hell ghosts were supposed to be made
of.  He looked as if you could touch him, and although they had come
within millimetres of each other Mulder couldn't say whether it would
have been possible to touch him or not.  He'd decided that the man
wasn't an actor dressed up because his tattoo looked real.  But that
didn't mean he wasn't an actual real time man.  Maybe he was a sort
of a hermit who just liked dressing up and acting like his ancestors.
Mulder struggled for breath.  Whoever he was he had no trouble going
up hills.

Just when Mulder started to worry that he would be left behind, the
trail crested a ridge and dropped steeply into a ravine thick with
cutty  grass.  The Maori swung himself down easily as Mulder slipped
down  the rock and ploughed through the vegetation.  Stinging from
hundreds  of little cuts to his bare legs and arm he slid into the
stream at the  bottom with a curse.  'Hey,' he shouted.  'You.
Rangitu.'  He bent  over panting.  He looked up to where the warrior
waited, already half  way up the bank on the other side.  There was a
lot of vegetation  between them and he couldn't tell whether the man
was breathing or  not.  'Where are we going?'

The man took up his now familiar folded arm stance and stared at him.
Mulder sat down on a rock and leant back on his arm.  'Do you speak
English?' he tried again.  Rangitu just stared.

'Oh Fuck!'  Mulder stared up at the canopy, which was a long way
above him.  There was quite a wind getting up now, it was even
starting to make an impression here under the trees.  He was starting
to  get his breath back.

This forest was like nothing he'd ever been in at home in America.
The colours were different. The forest was denser somehow.  It was
closer to being primeval.  And it suddenly made him very anxious
because he was in the middle of it following a ghost god knows where.

He stood up heart suddenly thumping.  He looked anxiously up the
bank.  Rangitu was still there looking at him with disdain.  He took a
slightly easier breath.  Wherever they were going Rangitu wanted to
make sure he got there.  Cursing, awkward with his injured arm he
started to scramble up the muddy bank after his enigmatic companion.

They continued on.  Mulder had come to the conclusion that they were
slowly going around the hill behind Bush Bay.  He was no longer
catching glimpses of the sound through the trees but seemed to be
looking at more forested spurs.  He had no idea where he was.  He
actually didn't care.  He was fairly sure he wasn't too welcome back
at the cottage.  It was good to have something to do.  It was good to
push his body to feel pain.  Physical sensory input helped to
distance him from the turmoil he would otherwise be feeling inside.
He was cut to ribbons by sharp grasses, and vicious vines, bruised by
rocks and roots.  The hairs on his legs where covered with the sticky
seeds of a grass.  He didn't know it yet but removing those was going
to give him an idea of what a leg wax would feel like.  His chest and
lungs ached with the effort of respiration in such strenuous
conditions and his muscles were burning with fatigue.  His sore arm
ached at best and sent stabs of pain lancing though him at worst.
Worst was actually quite frequent as he knocked it often.

He should have felt dreadful but all he felt was relief.

Until a sudden shocking thought hit him.  It brought him to a gasping
stand still overcome with pain.  From out of the blue it suddenly
occurred to him.  If he hadn't told her she'd never have known!
 

Great drops of rain were starting to fall as Scully raced along the
road  back to the cottage to rescue her washing.  She grabbed at it;
awkwardly bundling it into her arms and letting the pegs drop to the
ground.  Breathless she flung herself indoors barely wet as she
successfully dodged the sparse drops.  Just as she reached shelter the
drops gathered power and exploded into a torrential downpour.
Exhilarated she stood at the glass door and watched the water pour
past.

She laughed; inhaling the scent of fresh line dried clothing.  She was
feeling much better.  Ready for the next round even.  She knew it was
going to be hard.  She had no trouble predicting how Mulder was
going to be feeling.  He would see himself as undeserving of her, as
he  saw himself undeserving of any of the good things other people
took for granted.  She knew she was in for a hard time convincing him
otherwise.  She also had issues she needed to deal with but a
relationship, a proper lifetime relationship was possible and she
desperately wanted to make the attempt.  She knew the next few days
were going to be draining, but at last everything was out in the open
and they could talk it through and find where they fitted into each
other's lives.

'Mulder,' she called softly.  Surely he was back by now.  He'd been
gone hours.  Maybe he was lying down, he must be shattered.  She'd
join him.  Some cuddling and a nap would do them both good.  The
boys were playing with an ancient train set on Mrs Mac's living room
floor so they didn't have to worry about them.  Mrs Mac was going to
give them their tea too so they could have some time to themselves.

Mulder wasn't in the bedroom.  Mulder wasn't in the cottage.  Damn.
He'd be getting soaked.  Well at least the rain would drive him home
soon.
 

Mulder had no idea a forest could be so loud.  The wind thrashed the
tree tops setting off crashes and creaks of frightening intensity.
The  trees swayed through huge arcs and occasionally something would
come crashing past him.  The greenery diffused the rain; it was not
pelting down like it must be in the open but swirling through the gaps
like a heavy mist.  It was still very wet and coated his body like an
extra layer of sweat.

They were now following the base of a cliff, part of an ancient
volcanic plug, sticking surreal and bare of vegetation out of the very
top of the hill.  Following the side of the rock wall Rangitu led them
into an area quite unlike anything they had climbed through in the
past.  The huge trees disappeared and were replaced by tree ferns.
About fifteen to twenty foot tall the tree ferns stood, regularly
spaced  like rows of green patio umbrellas.  Black hairy trunks held
aloft thick  parasols that held back the rain.  In this spot,
sheltered by the cliff  above them, it was nearly dry.  The underneath
of the fronds were pale  coloured and glowed softly silver in the dim
light.  It was like another world.

Stepping carefully across the thick litter of fallen fronds Rangitu
led  the way to the very base of the cliff.  From the way he moved
Mulder sensed this was the end of the trip.  He followed, alert, eyes
wide for any hint as to what this was about.  He felt curious but not
concerned.

Rangitu stopped and stared down at what appeared to be just another
pile of dried old fern fronds.  It looked brown and slightly ragged,
and no different from anywhere else around him.  Rangitu knelt so
Mulder did too.  Rangitu was speaking, saying something quietly and
incomprehensible in Maori.

Mulder studied the pile of leaves and suddenly saw a pattern.  He
recognised what he was seeing.  Memories of crime scene photographs
flashed before him and tentatively he reached out and moved some dry
fronds.  It was easy to see it then, bone and rotted fabric and then
as he moved more debris the tattered remnants of a human being
emerged.

'Oh,' Mulder let out a sigh.  Of all the reasons for this bizarre hike
he hadn't considered this.  Gently he reached out and touched the
skull.

...Falling....

Christ, he was falling.  He scrabbled for handholds and missed.  His
heart thumped adrenaline then.... nothing.  There was nothing below
him but the distant forest canopy and that was rapidly approaching.
Falling.

He screamed.

This was it!

Mulder sat back on his bum with a thump.  His heart hammered
against his ribs and he thought he was going to be sick.  He swallowed
furiously and gasped in air, his eyes wide with fright.  Jesus, the
sensation had been twenty times stronger than the odd dream of
missing a step.  It was so real.  He stayed where he was and looked
hard at the huddle of bones, then slowly he lifted his gaze up.  He
tracked up, past the tops of the tree ferns, up, eyes scanning the
cliff  face through the rain, up, until he was looking vertically
upwards to  the top of the cliff way way above him.  'Oh God,' he
whispered.  'Is that what happened to you?'

More cautiously now he used a stick to clear the forest detritus from
the remains.  He sat back again to study them.  There was no flesh
left,  just bone brown and mottled from exposure to the forest.  The
skeleton was slightly scattered which was to be expected and still
partially clothed in tattered fabric.  Dark coloured pants and a pale
coloured shirt.  He could tell it was a shirt because he could see
buttons.  He didn't know why but he was sure it was a male.  He was
tall enough to be an adult but Mulder again had a feeling that he was
quite young.   He was no forensic expert; he didn't need to be.  The
inadvertent thought of Scully sent a twang of pain through his chest.
 He swallowed hard and tamped those thoughts down.  There'd be time
for that later.

So, the body was clothed.  Therefore and most obviously it was not an
ancient relic and not Rangitu's body or anything that bizarre.  In
fact from the state of the fabric and lack of flesh he was guessing
it had been here more than a year but no longer than two or three.
And he'd died by falling from the top of the cliff.  By the way the
bones were scattered it was hard to tell what injuries he would have
sustained from the fall.  But after a fall like that, Mulder
grimaced, death would have been instantaneous and the bones weren't
going to tell anyone anything about soft tissues at terminal velocity
impacting with the ground.

Rangitu had brought him here to find him.  Mulder looked around.
And now Rangitu was gone.
 

Scully paced around the little front room.  Damn Mulder.  The rain had
been joined by high wind and visibility had dropped so that she could
barely see the beach.  The trees were whipping backwards, forwards
and sideways with the wind and small pieces of plants dashed past the
window.  It just had to be absolutely freezing out there.

Jesus Mulder, I told you to go for a walk, not to bloody run away.
Where the hell did you go?  Had she not made herself clear when she
told him not to pack his gear and leave?  Surely he'd understood that
she just wanted space for an hour or so.  Hadn't he?

She was starting to get worried.  She knew he wasn't dressed for the
weather outside and if he'd gone too far he would probably be
hypothermic before he managed to get back. He just didn't have the
physical reserve to cope, she knew it.  God damn, knowing Mulder
he'd probably end up with a fever too.  Yes, her mind screamed, you
know cold and wet don't cause fevers.  But, the Dana part, not the
doctor part, answered, in Mulder's case it will.

Where could he have gone?  She hadn't paid any attention to which
direction he'd taken when he left.  Trust Mulder to over react and
disappear.  What the hell were you thinking telling him to go for a
walk, her little voice asked her?  In the state he was in, what did
you think he would do?  You know how easily he can loose himself.  He
always takes off and runs when he's upset.  And that was major
upsetting.

But I was upset too, one of the voices answered.

Shit!  But I didn't know it was going to storm did I?

Enough already.  She opened a can of soup from their stores; ready to
help warm him when he came in.  The bed was made and the electric
blanket on.  Where was he?  She glanced at her watch; it was nearly
four o'clock.  She came to a decision.  He'd been gone since about 9
in  the morning, upset, with no food and no warm clothing.  It was
time to take action.  If he hadn't come back by now, he most likely
wasn't  going to able to make it back under his own steam.  It was
time to call  out the cavalry.  She viciously tamped down the vivid
image of a broken body at the bottom of a cliff that suddenly flooded
into her mind.

She went to the phone and dialled the number written on the wall
above it.  Tom answered on the third ring.

'Tom I'm worried. Mulder hasn't come back yet.  He's still out there
in the rain.
 

Mulder was cold now.  His tired body ached with it.  'Scully,' he
moaned quietly.  'I'm making that face.'  He had just completed
another search of the area he was sure the track had to be in and
hadn't  been able to find a sign.  He knew they had come up from
beside the rock but in spite of repeated attempts to penetrate the
thick undergrowth at the edge of the fern grove he hadn't been able
to find anything resembling a track.  He was in a bad situation and
he knew it.

He moved back into the slight cover afforded by the cliff face, no
caves to hide in unfortunately, just a slight overhang, and sank down,
knees pulled up to his chest.  'Hey,' he shouted, just in case Rangitu
was listening.  'Where are you?  Come on you bastard, it's time to go
home.'  He stretched his tee shirt out and pulled it down over his
legs.   That was a little warmer.  Christ he was scratched and bruised
and so bloody cold.  He pulled his good arm inside the shirt too.
There was no way he would have dared try to do that with the other
one.  At least it was bandaged although a wet soggy bandage didn't
provide much in the way of warmth.  'Fuck you,' he muttered, holding
back tears.  'What was the point of bringing me here if I don't get
to go back and tell someone where he is?'

Nobody answered.

He lowered his head onto his knees and started to rock.  Fuck he was
uncomfortable.  Come on Scully, he thought.  I know you're pissed
with me but come find me please.  I didn't mean to ditch you.  It just
happened.  I meant to come back.  I want to talk to you.  I need to
talk to you.  I'm so sorry about everything Scully.  I love you

He suddenly snapped his head upright, sickened by his self disgust.
She's not going to save you again you bastard.  Get used to it.
You'll  have to save yourself.  Now, you can't find the track you came
on, but there might be another one.  Get off your ass and look.

If there was another track Mulder couldn't find it.  He couldn't find
a  cave or anywhere to shelter either, so refusing to give in to
another bout of self pity he set about making one.  Part of the cliff
face, right near the boy's body was angled away from the wind and had
a patch of  near dry sand at it's base.  He started collecting fern
fronds, wrenching them bodily off the smaller trees and propping them
against the rock to make a rough lean to.  Sacrificing his bandage to
tie it together and using some heavier pieces of wood he made it into
quite a sturdy  structure the exertion warming him a little.  Then he
set about  collecting dry material to make a nest; there were a lot of
old fronds on  the ground.

He stood back and surveyed it with something like satisfaction.  It
was  lopsided, primitive, and probably wouldn't last the night but
he'd  made it and it had to be warmer and drier in there.  A couple of
last minute tweaks and he crawled inside and started burrowing into
his bedding.  This time he did have his bad arm inside his shirt, it
was bare now and that stuff was scratchy as hell.

'Cave man Mulder,' he muttered sardonically.  He curled on his side,
head on his arm and his legs again pulled into his shirt.  Shit it
really wasn't warm in here.  Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Nothing to do but think.

Scully.

He dozed.

Scully.

He woke from a warm memory of Scully taking him in her arms to
find what had woken him was not her touch but his shelter collapsing
on top of him.  Fuck.  It didn't seem to matter much.  It wouldn't
keep  him any drier if he fixed it so he didn't, just lay there
staring at the  patterns the green fronds made as they interlaced and
moved with the wind in front of his eyes.

He felt so sad.  He'd lost her.  She was gone now, forever and he'd
have to get used to life without her.  If he survived that was.  He'd
seen her go down in the water, sinking into the clear water, face up,
her long beautiful hair making a halo around her face, the blood in it
barely noticeable as the water washed it away.  Her eyes were open
and she'd seemed to be alive, air coming from her mouth.  She was
going down slower than he'd expected since there was a large sack of
sand tied to her waist.  Or maybe time just seemed to move slowly.
Then he'd realised that they were mesmerised by the sight too and
he'd used the chance that gave him to slip over the side.

His arm was so sore, he thought it had broken when they first hit him
with the boat hook.  He couldn't swim far, but there was a mussel farm
moored in the bay and by good luck he'd reached it and them pulled
himself along its rough ropes of shellfish and out of their sight
before they realised he'd gone.

He'd rested a little once he reached the landward side of the mussel
rafts and then made his way to the beach.  And that was when they
spotted him, just before he got himself under cover of the bush that
grew nearly to the water's edge.  He'd started to run then, given
energy by adrenaline, fighting his way through the thick growth,
heading upwards because it was as good a direction as any.  He could
hear the boat motor starting and shouts, and then horrifyingly shots
rang through the bay.  Christ how had he ever gotten into this mess?
He couldn't let it end like this.  He had to get away and let people
know what had happened.  Her family would need to know.

He'd raced on, somehow finding passage through the bush.  He was
trying to think, trying not to panic.  He tried to picture where they
were, tried to work out where the nearest occupied cottages would be.
There was no road out here he knew that, but if he got up and over the
ridge, there might be a house in the next bay.  The men were on shore
now; he could hear them in the bush.  They probably knew their way
around better than him.  There were more shots.  They were shooting,
randomly, he hoped.

He kept pushing upwards, muscles burning with fatigue, lungs aching,
and his arm an agony he just had to ignore.  God surely the ridge to
the next bay wasn't so high.  God he was tired.  It had been days
since he'd eaten, days since the party that had started so well and
ended in horror.  So long since Angela had kissed him and suggested
they go somewhere quiet.  Felt like a lifetime since that bastard
Lewis had said  there was a spare berth on his boat, did they want it?

Fuck.

And he couldn't believe it.  It was only hours since they'd tried to
overpower the rapist BASTARD and his ugly little bummer mate had
hit him with the boat hook and Angela with an oar... and... she'd
died.   Just like that.  She didn't gurgle or moan or go unconscious
and then die.  She'd just dropped to the deck, stone cold dead.  The
fight had stopped and all three of them just stood there.  Then Lewis
had screamed and would have killed him too but Mike whoever he was
wouldn't let him and they'd tied him to the mast and then Lewis had
bent Mike over and...  He fought down nausea.  He still couldn't
believe what they'd done.  The two of them, both of them howling and
jerking and...  right there.  Right beside Angela's dead body.

A scream rose in his throat and he tamped it down.

He stopped panting.  He must be going the wrong way.  He'd come so
far.  It wasn't this far over the ridge.  He was too high.  And then
he realised, he wasn't heading for the next bay, he must be nearly
over the saddle and into the next sound.  That was what had happened.
 He was headed up the wrong hill.  But... there was a road that ran
around the next sound wasn't there?  He looked through the trees and
was sure he could make out the skyline, he must be nearly at the
crest. If he  ould just keep away from his pursuers he'd be okay.

Then suddenly he caught a flash of a red shirt to his left. Lewis.
Shit.   And Lewis saw him and raised his rifle.  Christ, he broke and
ran,  dodging, climbing, he had to make it, he just had too.  Then
suddenly  he broke out onto the flat rock at the top of the hill.  No
cover, none.   His legs pumping furiously he flew across the rock as
Lewis crashed  out of the bush behind him.

He hurtled towards the edge, preparing to dive into the bush on the
other side, completely unprepared for what was in front of him.  On
this side there was no slopping forested hill.  The soft hillside had
eroded away from the volcanic core.  On this side there was only a
cliff, with the bush nearly one hundred feet below.  Momentum carried
him over...  falling, nothing to catch at, nothing to stop him.  A
thought rushed through his head, I'm sorry, so sorry.  He screamed.

As his screams died, swallowed up in the rain and wind, Mulder's
panic died with them and slowly his own reality asserted itself.  He
realised he actually had reason to panic.  His reality was nearly as
bad  as the boy's.

It was fully dark now, deeply blackly dark.  At first he was
completely  disorientated, worried he was dead, worried he was blind.
Now finally he had it figured out.  He was lying in the forest, only
a few feet from where the boy had met his death after plunging from
the cliff top.  A ghost had led him here.  It was night.  It was
raining.  He was wet; he was cold.  He hurt, badly.  And Scully hated
him.

It was that last bit that hurt the most.  The thought that he had lost
Scully and all that that meant tore a large agonising hole in his
chest.   So he couldn't have her as a lover, he'd gotten used to that.
 It would have been nice but he could live without it.  It was to
loose her as a friend that had the possibility to destroy him.  After
everything that had happened, to think that the thing that had
finally torn them apart was his own stupidity.  How could he live
with that?

He took a deep shuddery breath, slowly getting himself back under
control.  Better maybe to have died.

Shivering badly he tried to burrow deeper into his burrow which was
marginally warmer than the air outside.  Well, at least he knew who
the boy was now.  He was the missing boy from Rod's case here a few
years ago, the one whose body had never been found.  He tried to
remember if he'd ever heard his name.  If he had it had only been
mentioned in passing and it must have been in the first couple of days
after he came out of hospital while he was still so ill.  He didn't
remember, but tomorrow when he got back he would tell Rod and
then...

Okay.  So he couldn't die yet.  Jesus that might be a tough call.  He
tried to remember the stages of hypothermia but his brain was working
about as well as his body.  Right now that wasn't much.  He was
shivering.  That wasn't too bad.  Right?  It was when you stopped
shivering you were in trouble.  He tried to remember the medical text
he'd seen once but he just couldn't call it up.  His arm hurt so badly
he could hardly think of anything.  He'd finally reduced his pain
meds to just paracetamol a few days ago but he'd had nothing now
since last night and he'd been regretting that since about whenever
he'd found himself on the water tank this morning.  So his arm hurt.
And the rest of him hurt too.  He was scraped and bruised and he was
so fucking cold!

God.

He pulled his head into his pile of leaves and gave in to the sobs.
This morning he'd made love to Scully and by tomorrow morning...  It
was never going to happen again.  Even if he didn't die tonight.

The rain was dripping relentlessly into his face.  He didn't have to
worry about thirst.  And he never felt hungry when he got upset
anyway.  The wind had dropped but he hadn't noticed.  Oh Jesus.  At
least though, he'd done it.  He'd made love to Scully.  Well that
wasn't strictly true.  She'd made love to him; all he'd done was to
go along with it...  She'd been so warm.

Warm.  What else was warm?  Warm baths.  Warm sun.  Fever,
burning up with fever.  Fuck he felt cold.  Why couldn't he catch
something infectious right now?  Bet there were no germs up here.  Of
cause there were no germs up here.  You needed people to get germs
and there were no people here.  No people here.  Yes.  What an
investigator.  Fucking, fucking, fucking shit!  Warm Scully.  He
wanted her so desperately.  He cried and even his tears were cold.
 

Scully sprawled miserably across the bed.  She tossed the comforter
off but she was still too hot.  Finally with a sigh she crawled over
and  turned off the electric blanket on Mulder's side.  It felt such a
betrayal,  as if she'd given up on him.  As if she never expected him
to come  back and climb into its warmth.

Well she didn't expect him to did she, not tonight?  The search teams
had stopped hours ago, ordered to stop by Search and Rescue once it
had become too dark to see.  They hadn't wanted to stand down either
and she wasn't sure how that made her feel.  It was nice that a group
of volunteers would put themselves out so much for a total stranger,
worrying that they felt finding him couldn't wait until the morning.

She lay staring at the ceiling dried eyed.  It was just awful not
being  able to do anything.  Jeez Dana, she mused.  Haven't you done
enough?  Whose fault is it that he took off anyway?  She couldn't
bring herself to turn out the light.  Mulder might be out there
somewhere watching.  If she turned it out, if the cottage went dark,
he'd know she'd given up on him.  He'd think she didn't care that she
didn't want him back.  She couldn't bear him to think that.

She buried her nose into the pillow, trying to pretend she couldn't
hear the rain on the roof.  The pillow smelt of him.  He must have
lain on this pillow.  This morning he'd been warm and whole and in
this bed.  This morning they'd made love and it had felt so good.
God she'd loved him then.  She still loved him now.  Oh hell, he
hadn't wanted to.  He hadn't wanted to make love to her.  She
understood now.  What would have happened if she hadn't done that?
Would all his revelations have hurt so much?  Would it have hurt him
so much?

She gasped as she saw something with sudden clarity.  Mulder's first
sexual experience had been the rape.  His next was with Phoebe and
from what Scully understood that had not been a healthy relationship.
And neither had his relationship and marriage to Diana.  He had been
used and abused by women at every turn.  No wonder he turned to
videos and self-gratification.  Celluloid bimbos couldn't hurt him.

She swallowed suddenly sickened and her blood ran cold.  Scully
finally saw what she had done.  This morning she had taken advantage
of him.  She'd seen it as love making he'd...  He had felt something
pretty close to rape.  Oh dear lord.  She had to have hurt him badly.
He would never trust her again.
 

Sometime in the night two figures appeared in the fern cathedral under
the cliff.  They were both dark skinned and dark haired.  They looked
very similar sharing facial characteristics and a certain regal poise.
  They walked arm in arm towards the man lying huddled in the dark.
The woman removed the tightly woven mat she wore as a cape around
her shoulders.  In modern terms she was near naked underneath.  The
cape was large and she spread it out so that it completely covered the
man at her feet.  The couple spoke, arguing in soft voices and then
she  bent and climbed in under the mat, taking the man there in her
arms.   She stayed with him during the night, warming him and soothing
him when he moaned.  Her partner shot a look of exasperation at her
then removed his own cape spreading it over the two on the ground.
He backed up into the shelter of the cliff and stood, arms folded,
keeping a watch until morning.
 
 

Bush Bay
Sun 19th Dec
6.30 am

In spite of herself Scully must have slept because she suddenly found
herself being shaken awake by a fully dressed Brad.  It was bright
daylight outside, the storm completely gone.

'Wake up,' Brad was insisting.

Scully sat bolt upright.  'Mulder?' she asked.  Her first waking
thought.

'They've got him.'  Brad was nodding smiling broadly.  'They're
bringing him down now.  You need to come.'

Scully glanced at her watch.  It was still so early.  Brad must have
read  her thoughts.  'Tom took a team out at dawn.  They found him
about  half an hour ago.  It's been light for ages.'

'Is he...'

'He's okay.  Mrs Mac says he's hyper...'

'Hypothermic?'

'That's it.  She says you're to bring some warm clothes.'

In a haze of sick relief Scully ransacked Mulder's bag for underwear
and clothing.  She barely had the sense to pull on her own clothes and
then she was running along the road to Mrs Mac's.  Just before she
left  she remembered something.  She raced back to the bedroom and
turned on the electric blanket.
 
 

Seeing Mulder grey and unconscious in the tub gave Scully a dreadful
sense of dj vu.  She tamped down on those thoughts and calmed
herself by concentrating on the task in hand, checking him over for
injuries.  Other than scratches and bruises he seemed to have gotten
off lightly.  He hadn't even done any new damage to his arm although
the skin was boggy looking from being wet so long.  They just had to
warm him now and he should be alright.  Already he was showing
signs of lightening and returning to consciousness.

She knelt back and surveyed him.  It really wasn't at all like the
situation in Alaska.  For a start this bathroom couldn't look less
like a medical centre if it tried, and this bath...  Hell, she'd
never seen  anything quite like it.  The bath was an old cast iron
claw foot model, but in keeping with the bathroom the outside of it
was painted in pink primer.  Then over the pink someone had painted
swirls and waves in virulent green.  It occurred to her that maybe
Mulder wasn't the only colour blind one in the neighbourhood.

Mulder however looked a lot like he had then.  He did not look good.
Thank god, this time she could guarantee that at least retro viruses
weren't involved here.  This time she just had to worry about getting
his temperature back up to normal before any serious damage
occurred.  They didn't have a sub normal thermometer and so far they
had not managed to get a reading on the normal one they did have.
Tom reported however that he had been semiconscious, trying to talk
at times as they brought him out.

She slid her hand into his armpit.  Still cold, maybe not as bad as
before.  She laid her hand on his forehead as he moaned and moved his
head.  Mrs Mac caught her eye and on her nod turned on the tap to let
a little more hot water into the tub.  They had to be so careful.  If
they raised the temperature too quickly his blood would rush to the
surface, away from his vital organs and he could die of shock.  If he
was cold too long he could go into cardiac arrest.

Scully looked up as someone new came into the room.  It was the
police officer who had led the search last night.  He looked
uncomfortable.

'How's he doing?' he asked.  He was a well built Maori man who last
night had been very much in command.  There was something subtly
different about him this morning.

'Coming along,' Mrs Mac answered as if she were talking about the
meat cooking for dinner.

'Do you need the chopper?  I've got them on stand by.'

Mrs Mac looked at Scully, differing to her.  Scully weighed it up.
What Mulder really needed was an IV and for warmed fluids to be
pumped directly into his body.  But the chopper wouldn't carry that
and, she did a rough calculation, even if the flight were only fifteen
minutes each way it would still be a minimum of fifty minutes before
he was in a hospital.  And in the meantime he was here in the warm
tub.  If he were admitted to hospital he would be there for days and
she knew once he came around he would hate that.  If they could get
him warmed and conscious he should be just fine.  If...  'Can you
give us half an hour?  We should know by then if we can deal with
it?'

'Sure.  You're the doc.' He turned back to Mrs Mac.  'We've got a full
team coming in to search that hill.  Can you feed them?  It's just for
today and then the army will come in.  We'll cover costs.'

'Of course Nathan.'

The man stared off into the distance.  He was shifting from foot to
foot.  'I'm wondering how Tom knew where to look.'  He nodded
towards Mulder, 'to find him so quick this morning.'

Mrs Mac shrugged.  'It was a lucky guess I think.'

'Yeah sure.'  He didn't seem convinced.

'Don't you worry, you just be pleased he's been found.'

'Oh I am.  He's not the only one who was found though was he?

'I'm pleased about that too.  He's been worrying me.'

'You knew that boy was up there didn't you?'

Mrs Mac held his gaze, eyes wide and innocent.   'Now Nathan, you
know me.  How would I have known that?'

The policeman chuckled.  'I used to be so scared of you when I was
little.'

'You were a naughty boy Nathan Matangi.  You were right to be
scared.  But you turned out all right.  Now run along and do your
work.  We got a live boy to look after here.'

Scully watched his departing back.  'What,' she asked the old woman,
'was that about?'
 
 

Mulder was floating.  He was in a warm safe place and it was
delicious, just to float, just to... be.  Warm...  mmm, he was warm.
Nearly, not quite, still cold deep inside.  'Scully,' he moaned.

'shh.'

He could hear voices.  Scully...  warm...  Ahh.  He sank back into the
dark.

He slowly surfaced again to her voice.

'Mulder.  Mulder, open your eyes.  Come on, open your eyes for me.'
Her hand, her hand was on his cheek, gently rubbing.  'Come on
partner I need you to open your eyes for me.  Come on, I know you're
there.  Try hard, do it for me.'

'Scully?'  His voice sounded ragged, his throat raw.  He turned his
head into her palm, into her touch.

'That's right.  Come on Mulder, open your eyes.'

He tried, he didn't want to, he just wanted to sleep.  Something had
happened he knew it.  If he could just stay asleep he wouldn't have to
deal with it, whatever it was.  But Scully was insisting.  And besides
he felt water, it felt like he was sitting in a bath.  Why was that?

He opened his eyes and blinked at the light.  Scully's face swam into
focus.

'Hey,' she said in their time honoured way.

'Hey.'  He was in a bath.  He was naked in a bath.  What the hell?

'Mulder, sit down.  It's okay.  You're all right.  Sit still.  We have
to warm you up.  You've been hypothermic.  Sit still.'  She grinned.
'Relax and enjoy it.'

He settled back, trying to process that.  Then the door opened and Mrs
Mac came in.  Oh.  Suddenly everything came flooding back.  The
night in the forest, finding the boy's body, Rangitu, and backwards to
his confession.  He dropped his head, suddenly overcome by an
enormous shudder of revulsion.

'Easy.  It's okay.'  Scully had her hand behind his head protecting it
from the metal bath.  'It's okay Mulder.  Everything is all right.'

Mrs Mac passed her a mug and she held it to his mouth.  'Drink this
Mulder.  It will help get you warm.'  It was another one of her
magical teas.  This time the contents were a complete mystery to him
but he drank it obediently.  He was so weak he couldn't even reach a
hand up to steady the cup.

When he'd finished he leaned his head back and looked at Scully.  He
wished they'd left his shorts on.  Scully looked her usual, efficient,
pleased to see you okay after you've hurt yourself again Mulder, self.
She was looking at him with compassion, not disgust. 'I'm sorry,' he
whispered but he couldn't have said exactly what he was apologising
for.

'I'm sure you are,' she said.  Then she smiled at him, radiant and
bright.  'Everything is okay Mulder.  Really it is.'

He smiled weakly back at her, too tired to analyse that.
 

Later Mulder wouldn't remember anything about the bath.  His only
memory of the morning was of sitting, propped up and tightly wrapped
in blankets in Mrs Mac's easy chair in the lounge.  She was spoon
feeding him something warm, soft and sweet.  He just lay back
opening his mouth and letting the mush slide down his throat.  Scully
didn't appear in this recollection.
 

Mulder woke up slowly, groggy and uncomfortably hot.  He groaned
and tried to roll over, hampered by the bedding wrapped around him.
His grazed legs burned where the fabric touched them.  He knew
instantly where he was, he was in their bed in their cottage on their
vacation that hadn't turned out to be much of a holiday and it was the
day after he'd told Scully everything.  It appeared to be the middle
of a hot afternoon and Scully was no where in sight.

Cursing he heaved his sore sweaty body out from under some of the
coverings.  It wasn't easy.  He was tucked in with extra blankets both
over the comforter and wrapped around him underneath it.  Once he'd
fought his way out he found that as well as all the blankets he was
dressed in his heavy track suit.  With a grunt he pulled the top off.

There was a glass of water beside the bed and greedily he gulped it
down.  Where was Scully?  Why wasn't she here?  She obviously
cared enough to leave the water, but not enough to sit by him and
watch him sleep.  Scully had always sat and watched him sleep when
he'd been sick in the past.  The fact that she wasn't here told him
all he needed to know about the way she felt about him now.

The sun shine outside the curtains drew him and he pulled them aside
and stared at the glittering water of the bay.
 

Scully awoke with a start, surprised to find she had fallen asleep.
The  tacky dryness in her mouth told her she'd been asleep for a
while.   She'd sat down on the sofa with the tub of chocolate mud ice
cream,  that being all she'd felt like for lunch. The melted remains
sat, soggy  and sad, but luckily still in the tub, on the seat beside
her.  It looked  like she'd eaten nearly half of the tub too.
Considering her lack of  sleep the night before it probably wasn't
surprising she'd fallen asleep.

Movement outside caught her eye and she looked up to see Mulder,
tender footedly tottering his way across the grass.  He was shedding
clothing, His tee shirt dropped, his trousers were left behind in a
puddle.  He started unwinding his bandage so that it streamed out
behind him before it too was dropped, as he headed unerringly for the
sea.  He looked like nothing so much as an overgrown toddler with a
water fixation.  She had to laugh.  That was exactly what he was.  She
sighed.  What the hell had gotten into him now?

Grabbing a towel she took off after him, watching from the sand as he
walked into the water as if it wasn't there.  And yet the cuts on his
legs should be smarting like hell.  Once he got chest deep he
submerged,  swam underwater a little way and came up into a dog
paddle.  He was  headed out to sea.  She stared at him, totally
bewildered as a wild  anger started to build inside.  What the fucking
hell was he doing now?

'Mulder!'  Her voice was strident and loud.  She didn't care who the
hell heard.  'Mulder, get the bloody hell out of that water.  NOW.'
She saw him stop and turn to look at her.  'Have you got a bloody
death wish.  Jesus Christ Fox Mulder get yourself the fuck sake back
here.  If I have to bring the boat out, God help me I will brain you
with an oar.  Do You Hear Me!  Mulder.  Come here now.'

Something must have sunk in.  Maybe it was the profanity.  He turned
and made his way slowly back.  She waded in and helped him out,
wrapping him in the towel.  His eyes looked full, his gaze slightly
vacant.  Maybe she should have had him checked out for a head injury
after all.

'Are you alright?'  Her hands searched all over his head.  'What were
you doing?'

'I was hot.  I wanted a swim.  Okay?'  His tone was that of a
belligerent child.  She realised the problem.  He was cutting himself
off from her.  He was putting up barriers.

'Don't you think that was a little foolish considering what you've
been through lately?'

'Nope,' he said sulkily.  He fell gracelessly onto the lounger under
the  tree.

Sighing Scully invaded his space and sat at his feet.  'Mulder.'  She
jogged his foot.  'Mulder, look at me.'

Reluctantly he turned his head.  She reached out and took his hands.
'Are you really watching me?'

He was.

'Do you trust me to tell you unequivocally what I think.  To make sure
that you make your decisions based on the fullest possible background
information available?'

He looked puzzled.

'Do you?  That's the way we've always worked isn't it Mulder?'

'Yes,' he mumbled.

'So you trust me to tell you the truth as I see it.'

A germ of a smile appeared on his lips.  He nodded.

She smiled to see it, smiled at the quirky, annoying, brilliant,
stupid,  complex man in front of her.  She said it quietly and meant
it with all  her heart.  'I love you Fox Mulder.'
 

Holiday cottage
4pm
 

Scully sat across the table from Mulder watching him carefully
swallowing the remains of the bread and butter pudding Mrs Mac had
made for him that morning.  Scully had to admit that the pudding was
an inspired choice for invalid food.  It was bland and yet tasted
good,  felt bulky but slid down easily and contained eggs, milk, and
sugar to  nourish a run down body.  And Mulder seemed to like it.
Knowing  Mulder's stomach when he was upset, finding something he
could eat was a tricky task.

He scrapped the spoon around the edges of the dish looking for the
last scraps.  He licked the spoon.  She smiled and slid across a mug
of herbal tea made with one of Mrs Mac's home made muslin tea bags.
'Feeling better now?'

'Mmm.' Mulder still looked grey and exhausted but a silly smile was
plastered over his face.  It had been there ever since her words had
sunk in.  She loved him.  Whatever he'd done, whatever was wrong they
could work it out together and she had no intention of leaving him,
ever.  Everything would be alright.

But now she couldn't wait any longer.  'Mulder, what happened?  Why
were you up on that hill?'

He told her.  It didn't take long.

The look was back, the sceptical, Mulder have you lost your marbles
look.  'You're telling me that this ghost led you up there so you
would find the body of this boy?'

'Well no, that's not strictly true.'  He hurried on, wanting to
enlighten her and at the same time, immensely enjoying this familiar
process of putting his views out to meet her counter argument.  'I'm
not actually a  hundred percent sure that he even is a ghost.  But...'
He held a hand up to forestall her comment, 'I do think whoever he is
he chose me because somehow he knew that I would be able to tell what
had  happened.'

'Oh?'  Scully was enjoying this too.

'Yes.  You see, at first I couldn't work out why he would go to all
the trouble to lead me up there and then leave me.  I mean, I thought
I would die up there Scully.  But then I realised, I dreamed him, the
boy.   I know what happened.'

'You know what happened!'  Scully's voice cut in shrilly.  'You nearly
died and you're pleased because you know what happened to some...
some corpse you've never met.  For God sake Mulder.  Listen to you.
How do you think I felt last night knowing you were out there
somewhere in the rain; probably dying.  Did you think about that?
What do you think I thought about last night Mulder?'

It hadn't actually occurred to him to think of what Scully was
thinking while he was lying in the dark cold and wet.  He hadn't
actually been able to think too well at the point.  'I don't know,'
he said soberly.  'What did you think about?'

She glared at him, teeth barred.  'Oh I don't know.  This and that,
what I was going to tell your mother, who I'd get as a new partner,
why you've let everyone we've met in this country call you Fox.  Why
is that Mulder?  Do you know?'

'Scully I...' He reached out for her but she backed away.

'Come on Mulder.  Humour me.  Why is everyone here allowed to call
you Fox but I'm not?  Why is that?'

He was bewildered by the turn the conversation was taking but he
desperately wanted to make things right.  'I guess...  Rod calls me
Mulder.'

'Hmm.'

'Well.  This is another life.  I don't know.  Somehow it doesn't
matter the same.  And besides, most people who've called me Fox
started it before I was in any position to tell them not to.  It
seemed easier not to make a fuss.'  He stopped puzzled.  'Is that
alright?'

She was quiet.

'Scully.  You can call me Fox if you want to.  If that's what you
want.'

'No.' She sighed.  'Yes.  I don't know.  Go on.  I was being silly.
Tell me what happened to Ben.  Then tell me how you think you know.'

'It is him then?  Is that his name?  Ben?  The boy from Rod's case?'

'Ben Dales.  It appears to be him, yes.  Rod's got a forensic team up
there now.  They're doing a thorough site check and probably won't
remove the body until tomorrow.  It will be a dental and x ray records
identification by the sound of it.  I doubt they'll be able to do much
to establish a definitive cause of death.'

'It was an accident.  He fell.  He was being chased and they were
trying to kill him but it was an accident all the same.  And Angela
was killed by Lewis' friend, but that was really an accident too.
There was a fight.'

'What do you mean?  Lewis was the offender isn't he?  The guy Rod
got convicted?'

'Yeah.  He kidnapped them and he was responsible for Ben's death
indirectly.  At best it was manslaughter, but his friend killed
Angela, the girl.  I mean Lewis is a nasty piece of work and he's not
exactly innocent but...' Mulder stopped his mouth open.

'What?'

'Lewis.  Lewis isn't guilty of murder.  Innocent.  Ben and Angela -
innocents.  Get it?'  He stared up at her.  He's our perp.  Lewis'
friend.   He's the one who's been sending notes.  They were lovers.
He knows  Lewis didn't do it, but he got put away anyway.'

'Slow down.  You're saying the guy who killed Hinemoa killed Ben's
friend Angela.  He was Lewis' lover, so these abductions, the killing,
they're what, a revenge thing?'

Mulder nodded.  It all made perfect sense.

'What were the messages?'

'"Tis the season of innocents.  Innocence will be lost".  That was the
first one.'

'The season of innocents  Christmas time, New Year.  That's when
they disappeared.  Innocence will be lost.  Well it was.  They lost
theirs,  and their lives.  Or maybe it was Lewis' innocence but he
lost anyway.   It fits.  What was next?'

'"A time of innocents, a time of sorrow".  It's pretty much the same
thing.'

'Right.  But then this latest one,  "Lightening striking in the same
place  twice"?'  Scully's eyes widened in horror.  'Oh god.'

'He's here,' Mulder said, his mouth suddenly dry.  'Jesus Scully.' He
grabbed her, his fingers biting into his arm.  'This is the place
where it  will happen again.'  He looked around panicked.  'Where are
the boys?'
 
 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Bush Bay
Sun 19th Dec
5pm

Mulder tried to still the panic that was gripping his heart.  He was
running hard but Scully was already in front of him as they left Mrs
Mac's.  The boy's were in the bush with their father Mrs Mac had said.
  That was the worst possible place they could be.  Rod would be
engrossed in the crime scene.  He wouldn't be expecting danger, he
wouldn't be paying attention; no one would know anything until it was
too late.

'Quick,' Scully was throwing herself into the driver's seat of Mrs
Mac's  ancient Mini.  'We'll go up the road to where the track
starts.'

'Road?' Mulder said stupidly.

'Yes, road.  Get in.'

Reluctantly he complied. As he folded himself into the passenger seat
he felt a brief flare of amusement.  He hadn't seen a tiny car like
this since he was in England. 'There is no road.'

'What do you mean?  Of course there is.'  She gunned the engine into
life  and took off with a squirt of gravel.  'You can't have got to
where you were found without crossing the road.  We'll get up there
quicker in the car.'

'I never crossed the road.'

'You had to.  You can't have got from here to there,' she pointed,
changed gear and tried to turn, all in one dangerous movement,
'without  crossing the road.  Maybe you forgot.'

'I'd have noticed.  Fuck.  Be careful.'  He grabbed onto the dash to
save his head from connecting with the windscreen as she hit the
brakes to corner.

'How would you have noticed?  You were following a ghost.'

They argued on.  They both knew it was saving them from thinking the
worst.  Scully, Mulder noticed, had never stopped to query how he knew
the background that had allowed him to put the case together and
realise the boys were in danger.  But she could argue about ghosts.
That was safe.

They rounded a bend on two wheels and Scully suddenly stopped short,
the bonnet ending inches from the back of a large four wheel drive
utility.   They were nearly parked underneath it.  The road side was
littered with  vehicles, most of them of the battered and well used
four wheel drive  variety.  One was decked out in police livery.
Looking out of place was a  long sleek dark coloured station wagon,
its shiny paint obscured by road  dust.  He realised it was a hearse.
This must be where the track crossed the road.

Wrenching open the aged door he fell out onto the roadway.  Scully was
heading up the side of the road looking for the track but Mulder had
another thought.  He made for the police vehicle.  He tried the door.
It was locked.  Damn.  He peered in through the window, yep, radio.
'Scully!'  He raced along the line of vehicles until he found a farm
truck with straw and tools scattered over its deck.

'Mulder what...?' but then she saw what he was intending and stood
back.

He raised the wrench, took a deep breath and crashed it down on the
passenger window of the police vehicle.  It wasn't like the movies,
the wrench bounced and dropped to the ground narrowly missing his
foot.  'Fuck!'  His whole body jarred with the impact.  There was
only a small  star of glass missing from the window for his effort.

Scully picked the wrench up.  I hope you're right, her look said and
then  she held the wrench directly in front of her and tapped it onto
the centre  of the window.  The glass shattered into thousands of
little cubes.  Scully  raised her eyes in triumph.  'It's all in the
angle Mulder.'

'Smart ass.  I'm surprised there's no alarm.'  He reached inside for
the  radio mike, clicked the transmit button.  The radio did nothing.
'Shit.'   He found the console, flipped the on off knob, nothing.
'Fuck.  It won't  go.'  He clicked.  'The car has to be going.  The
electrics have to be working.  We need the key.'

Scully reached past him and unlocked the door.  She brushed glass onto
the floor, slid into the driver's seat, reached up under the steering
wheel and felt around.  Mulder stared at her.  'Do you know how to do
that?'

'I used to.  When I was about sixteen.  I don't know about these
modern computer controlled cars though.  I don't think they're quite
so simple.'  She'd got down low and was peering up under the dash.
'I don't know.  I  don't think I can.'  She was starting to sound
panicked again.  'What  about you?  Can you do it?'

Mulder started around the car to have a look but common sense gave him
a pinch.  He had once learnt how to hot wire a car, back in the bad
old days; in fact he'd actually shown Weaner and Diesel how to do it.
   But like Scully it wasn't a talent he'd kept up.  Thinking of
those guys made him sick so he tried to keep his mind on the problem
of the moment.  He could probably hot wire this if he had time, but
time was not something they could afford to waste.  Not right now.

'How far is it to the site?'

She looked up from where she was playing with a handful of wires.  'I
don't know.  You're the one that was there.  It didn't take very long
to bring you out to here though.  Tom had you back at the house
almost before Brad had told me they'd found you.'

'Leave it.  We haven't...'

The dashboard lights flickered and the radio gave a crack.

'That's it.  That one.  Do it again.'

She did and the lights stayed on.  He leaned over and picked up the
microphone clicking it.  It worked.  'Hold it,' he told her, 'stay
just like that.'  He suddenly froze.  'What am I going to say?'

'Just call Rod.'

He did.  'Inspector Rod Stuart, Inspector Rod Stuart or any one in his
team.  Are you receiving? Over.'  He glanced at Scully, she nodded.

'Inspector Stuart, Inspector Stuart, I have an urgent message.  Can
any one hear me? Over.'  He fiddled with the volume knob and the car
filled with static.

He remembered some rusty radio folklore.  'Pan pan pan.  Are any
stations receiving over?

A female voice nearly blasted them out of the cab.  'Station calling
pan please state your emergency.  Over.'

Frantically Mulder turned the volume back down.  He took a deep
breath.  'This is Fox Mulder of the FBI with an urgent message for
police Inspector Rod Stuart.  I have reason to believe that he and
his children are in danger.  He is at a crime scene in the
Marlborough Sounds.  Can you get a message to him?  Over.'

They were both expecting the voice to question Mulder's credentials,
question the warning and at least ask what the danger was.  The next
sound from the radio was a great relief.  'Mulder?'  It was Rod's
voice.   'What's going on?'

'Thank God,' Scully muttered.

'Rod,' Mulder tried hard to keep his voice even.  'I know who your
kidnap killer is.  I also think he is here.'  He took his finger off
the transmit button while he thought through what to say next.  That
gave Rod a chance to ask, 'Here?'

'Yes sir.  Here in Bush Bay or somewhere close.'  There was no time
for long winded explanations.   'Sir, where are the boys?'

The radio was silent.  They both tried to picture what was happening
at the other end.  It seemed an eternity before it crackled back to
life.  'Mulder, where are you?'

'Scully and I are in the police vehicle at the foot of the track.  I'm
afraid we had to break in to use the radio.'

'Good.'  The fact that there was no admonition was a bad sign.  'Brad
is on his way back down.  He was hungry.  He left here about twenty
minutes ago so he should be nearly on you now.  We're unsure...' there
was a long pause.  'Davy isn't here.  He's probably with Brad.  Call
me back when you see them.'

'Affirmative.'

Two minutes stretched to eternity.  Suddenly with no warning Brad
appeared from the undergrowth.  He was alone.
 

The track was much easier to follow today; a blind man couldn't miss
it.   A legion of policemen and associated extras armed with machetes
had  slashed and hacked their way through the undergrowth.  They'd
improved navigation of the path, what they hadn't done was make it
easier to run along.

Mulder wasn't convinced that it was the same path he'd followed
Rangitu  into the forest on yesterday.  He couldn't for the life of
him work out how he could have crossed the road without noticing, and
if he hadn't crossed the road then it couldn't be the same path.

It didn't really matter.  It was slippery with the rain and all the
feet along  it since the morning.  And it was steeply up hill.  They
were running all three of them, praying that any moment they would
spot Davy trotting down the track towards them.

After a very short time Mulder was out of breath.  He was shit scared
and adrenaline helped but he just couldn't force his body up that
hill any faster. His head was starting to pound and his legs to
tremble as he tried to force air into his lungs.  Some time yesterday
he's taken quite a bit of skin off his knee and now the scab was
tearing every time he bent his leg.   He was hauling himself forward
with his hand, grabbing trees and vines to pull himself up the slope.
 At least this time he had the sling to give his arm a little
protection.  Jesus Davy, he prayed, be alright.  Please Davy,
he panted in time with his steps.  Please Davy, be walking down.  God
Davy, don't let me be too late.

Visions of Davy's brown eyed, toothy grin swam in front of him and
kept him going.  He's okay.  He tried to reassure himself.  In spite
of a life time of bad happening, or maybe because of that he forced
himself to think of the positive until proven otherwise.  It tore him
in two sometimes as his conscious warred with his unconscious
pessimism but it was an ingrained habit to try and find the likely
positive outcome to what appeared to be a bad situation.  So he kept
believing Samantha was alive and waiting to be found and now he
worked hard to believe that Davy was just mislaid.  If he'd had the
breath he'd have said it out loud to try and reassure Scully. Davy is
okay.  He ran it through his head anyway and saved all his breath for
keeping moving.  Maybe he's back at the site  and Rod just missed
seeing him.  Maybe he decided to leave after Brad  and we'll meet him
any second.  Maybe he went off somewhere to look  at something else.
Or he needed to pee, yes that could have happened.   We'll get there
and he'll be fine.

'Oww!'  Mulder grabbed at a vine and it swung loose.  He fell back,
skidding in the mud.  The whippy stump of a small tree caught the back
of his calf and dug in bringing a painful halt to his slide.  He fell
to his painful knees, his hand reaching for his leg gasping for
breath.  Scully slid back down to him.

'I'm okay.'  Cautiously he removed his hand.  'Look,' he was amazed.
'No blood, see.'  The stick had bent, causing what would be a nasty
bruise but it hadn't broken the skin.  He swallowed down air, willing
the effects of exertion to subside.  He was nauseous, close to being
sick and his body was trembling.  He hoped Scully couldn't see.  With
a sigh he flopped over to sit on the wet ground.  'I'm okay.  I am
really.  But I can't do this.'  It was an admission that would have
killed him at any  other time but now Davy was all he could think of.
He lifted his head to look at her.  'You go.'  He could read
everything behind her assessing  look.  'Go.  Take Brad.  Get up there
and find him.  I'll be right behind  you.'  He took a couple more deep
breaths.  'I'll just be a little slower.'

'Okay.'  She gave a crisp nod.  'I'm sure he's fine.  It's no use
you...'  Her smile was twisted, she didn't believe it herself.  'Just
come straight  up the path.  Don't do anything stupid.  Okay.'

'Promise,' Mulder said.  'Go.'
 
 

Mulder was starting to get worried that he wouldn't make it up the
hill.   He'd felt like this once before.  He'd been on a really nasty
profiling  case, hadn't slept, hadn't managed to eat for something
like ten days.   He'd gone running, trying to loose the demons in the
pain of pushing his body.  It had worked, too successfully.  He'd
pushed through the pain barrier, riding the endorphins, ignoring the
occasional tremors that warned him of impending collapse until he'd
suddenly hit it.  It was as if he'd crashed straight into an
invisible wall.  He'd gone down, lying there twitching, near
paralysed in the middle of the road.  He'd been damn  lucky he hadn't
gotten himself run over.

They told him at the hospital that he'd exhausted his body's ability
to keep anything other than his vital organs functioning; and they'd
been getting close to shut down too.

He'd felt then like he did now.

Forcing himself to kept putting one foot in front of the other he
slogged up the hill.  He really should not have gone for that swim.
He shouldn't have gone off on a wild ghost hunt yesterday.  Hell
while he'd been having his angst fest yesterday the perp had been up
here somewhere planning his attack.  Mulder had created the perfect
scenario for a snatch by creating confusion and causing all the
adults to be distracted.  Guilt  and exhaustion was weighing heavily
on him.  His heart was labouring so heavily he was scared he was
going to have a heart attack.  It was so hard  to hear anything other
than the blood pounding in his ears that is was a little while before
he registered that he could hear voices.  He could hear
the police team.  He was nearly there.

Stumbling into the fern cathedral he saw chaos.  There were about a
dozen people in the area and at least nine of them were moving around
in  circles.  In the centre of the maelstrom, still and purposeful
were Rod,  Brad and Scully.  Rod held his son close to him.  He looked
distinctly out  of place wearing tie and dress shirt in the forest,
Scully, so pretty, in  floral shirt and shorts.  It was disconcerting.

A whoof of wings close to his head startled him.  He lost his balance
and  found himself, once again, sitting down.  The pigeon crashed onto
the top of a small tree and regarded him, its head cocked, as if it
couldn't believe that something so useless should be in its forest.

'Mulder.'

He looked up at Scully.  She looked strange, pale.  Her voice was
soft,  diminished somehow.  It was like it had been after that fur
ball dog got  eaten.  It was the voice that brought it home.  It was
true.  Davy wasn't here.  Everything wasn't all right.  He wasn't
going to get in trouble for breaking the window of a police car
because he'd been right and Davy had been taken.

Scully sat down next to him on the damp fern fronds.  'No one saw
anything.  We've all searched the area,' she indicated the clear area
under the tree ferns, 'and there is no sign of anything.  He could
have taken him in any direction, the undergrowth is just too thick to
tell.'  She sighed and  leaned in against him so he lifted a trembly
arm and put it around her shoulders.  'There's a dog team on their
way but it will be at least 2 hours before they can get them here.'

Mulder forced his mind to focus, to ignore the crappy state his body
was in.  He had to do what he did so well, and he had to do it now.
Even so he appreciated Scully's warm body next to his.  He took a
moment to enjoy it and hold the worst thoughts at bay.

'Okay.'  He took a deep breath, 'to start with the undergrowth is too
thick.  It is impenetrable and he couldn't have gotten through it
easily.  If  he did it would show.  We need to look for places where
he could have come through.  It's possible that he didn't take him
here either, Davy may well have been heading back down the track like
everyone thought.  So we need that checked either side too.'  Mulder
looked up and realised Rod and most of the team were crouched down
listening to him.  Rod's face although pale was stony, professional,
and once again he was reminded of Skinner.  The only give away to his
emotions was the tight grasp he kept on Brad's hand.

'We're going to need more people, I assume the search teams that went
looking for me can be contacted again.  What's the chances of spotting
anything from the air?' He looked at the tight canopy above him.
'Okay  it's probably not a lot but it's worth a try.

'Just thinking, he's a friend of Lewis'.  Lewis lived on a sailboat.
Right?'

Rod nodded.

'Well he may have another boat.  If he's fit Davy wouldn't be too hard
to  carry.  He could be heading down the hill to the bay.  Hell he
could be going over the hill to where he and Lewis dumped Amanda in
the sea,'  Mulder missed the shocked looks of the police officers
around him, 'so  get someone looking over there too.'  He looked
around at the assembled  people.  He looked directly at Rod.  'We've
got a good chance.  He's only an hour ahead of us at the most.  All
we have to do is figure out which way he went.'  He meant that to be
encouraging but looking  around at the dense forest, somehow it
wasn't.
 

Something was wrong with his hearing aids.  That was the first muzzy
thought in Davy's brain.  His hearing aids were so important, so
expensive and so special that he noticed something wrong with them
before he registered even the headache, the sick feeling in his
stomach or  the nasty metallic taste in his mouth.  The left aid felt
totally wrong,  maybe even missing, the right one was sitting in the
wrong place in his  ear and it hurt.  He went to reach a hand to fix
it and his hand wouldn't move.  It was that that brought him suddenly
and frighteningly awake.  Only he couldn't be awake because he was
having a nightmare.

If it was a nightmare it was painfully real.  He was lying on the
ground on  his side in a rough shed with his hands tied behind his
back.  There was a  funny sweet smell in the air.  His feet were tied
up too.  It wasn't like  when that sort of thing happened in the
movies because it really hurt to  have his arms like that.  He
squirmed a little and that made him fall  backwards, then his weight
was fully on his arms and it really hurt!  He  cried out and vaguely
wondered why that didn't wake him up.  He  wriggled but couldn't
figure out how to get off his arms that were pulling  out of his
shoulder joints.  He didn't think he'd be able to even sit up let
alone find something rough to rub the rope on to get free.  Frustrated
he managed to wriggle back onto his side, which was slightly better.
He reminded himself that life wasn't like television, not really.

Suddenly the fear flooded back in.  He thought of the kidnapper that
Dad was trying to find.  He whimpered.  Hinemoa was dead.  Davy
remembered Hinemoa.  He'd never told Dad, somehow there had never
been a chance, but he'd met her at the winter Baden Powell camp when
the Brownie Guides had come camping with his Cub Scout Pack.  Davy
suddenly remembered why the pictures of the other girl Charlotte
looked familiar, he thought she might have been there too.  That
thought made  Davy very scared, in spite of his attempt to be tough he
started to cry.

The shed was made of odd bits of wood and tin sheets and suddenly one
bit of tin lifted up and a man climbed in under it.  He walked quickly
to stand over Davy.  Davy stared at him in disbelief and horror.  He
knew this was a nightmare now.  This couldn't be real. He started to
scream.  His mind flooded with fear.  How could it be?  This was the
face that had  haunted his bad dreams for the last three years.

The man bent down, brought his face closer and shoved his hand over
Davy's mouth.  Davy's body went slack with horror.  He stared up into
the face of the man who was responsible for pain and nightmares and
everything that was wrong and different in his life - his accident,
for his  deafness.  The man's face grimaced into an ugly smile, he
recognised  Davy too.  The man standing above him was the driver of
the car that had  knocked him off his bike three years ago.  Until now
Davy had only  remembered his face in his nightmares.  Now he
remembered that as the  car drove at him that day the driver had been
laughing.
 

Scully thanked the young man and carrying the small package made her
way back to where Mulder was huddled, his head on his knees.  She
touched him gently on the shoulder.  'Here.'  He looked up startled,
his eyes momentarily vague.  He was in even worse shape than she'd
thought.  Hell, they didn't have manpower to spare to carry him back
down the hill.  She'd have to get him on his feet.

She held out the bag.  'I got you some food.'  She gave a wry grin.
'It's the undertaker's lunch.  He's newly married and his wife always
gives him more than he can eat.  He was quite happy to share.  Here,'
she pulled out a carton of juice.  'At least drink this.  You need
some calories.' Deftly she removed the straw from its wrapping and
poked it through the foil covered hole on top of the carton.

Mulder took the carton without comment, sipped, rolled the juice
around his mouth then sucked enthusiastically.  Moments later he hit
the bottom with a noisy slurp.  'Good,' he mumbled.  'What's next?'
He reached for  the bag and dived in.  'Oo look Scully, egg salad
sandwiches. Want  one?'

She shook her head, suppressed a shudder.  Food was the last thing she
wanted.  'No thanks.'

Mulder shrugged.  'Me neither.'

'You have to eat something.'

'I know.  I'm not totally unaware of my...' His voice trailed off as
his  eyes fixed on something behind her.

'What?'  She glanced over her shoulder but could see nothing except
trees and the cliff.  'Mulder?'  He was struggling to his feet, the
lunch bag forgotten.  'What is it?'

'The cliff, over there.'  He spun around.  'This path.  This isn't the
way I  came.'  He spun back to face her, pointing to his left.
'Yesterday I came up there.  There's another path.  We came that
way.'  Scully raced after  him as he stumbled through the leaf litter.
 'Help me find it.  He's gone that way.  I know.'

'Mulder,' she reached for him and caught his hand.  He was on a tear
and she wasn't sure whether she should stop him or not.  She wasn't
sure if  this wasn't just another ghost like delusion.  'At least eat
this muffin.   Come on,' she placed it in his hand.  Hadn't his
instincts been right so  far?  'You can eat while we look.'

Mulder was questing too and fro like a hunting dog.  He'd made a bee
line for the tarpaulin covering the now forgotten body then took a
sharp  left along the base of the cliff.  Scully followed, pleased to
see that he  was absently breaking off pieces of muffin and eating
them as he went.   He came to the end of the tree ferns and eyed the
tangle of cutty grass and  small shrubs that grew away from their
shadows.

'We came up from here, I know.'  He turned and peered up at the cliff
trying to marry his memory with what he was seeing.  He muttered,
'This way a bit,' and slowly paced along the edge of the clearing.
Scully scanned the vegetation.  She couldn't see any break that would
let a man through.  She turned as movement caught her eye back by the
track. Tom  and his team of helpers had just arrived.  When she
turned back to the bush Mulder he was gone.

'Mulder!'  Her voice held the edge of panic.  Jesus!  Her heart was
fluttering.  Where had he gone?  Not him too.  'Mulder!!'

'Scully, here.'  His head popped out of the greenery.  'The other
track is over here.'  He didn't seem to notice her distress.  'I
can't believe I couldn't find this yesterday.  Come on.'  He didn't
wait but turned, ducked under a fallen branch and disappeared from
sight.

It did cross Scully's mind that she should let someone know what they
were doing.  But if she'd stopped to do that she'd have lost him.
 

Davy was backed into the corner of the shed.  He was as far away from
his captor as it was possible to get in its cramped surrounds.  The
man was in the opposite corner perched on the edge of a really old
looking stretcher.  Davy could see tatters of canvas hanging
underneath.  It didn't  look as if it would be possible to lie down on
it and yet the hut looked as  if someone had been living in it for a
few days at least.  On a box in the  corner he had a makeshift kitchen
set up with a wash basin and a camp  gas cooker.  He had tins of baked
beans, a jar of marmite and about a  dozen packets of jelly crystals
in a range of flavours.  It seemed a strange  combination of supplies.
 It didn't look like much to live on to Davy.

The man had just finished trimming his dirty toenails with a pocket
knife and it wouldn't have surprised Davy if he'd thrown the
clippings into the billy can simmering on the little stove.  He was
dirty and he smelt and his white feet looked ugly and soft.
Something about them made Davy feel sick.  He watched as the man
started pulling his boots back on.  It crossed Davy's mind that now
would be a good moment to attack, while the man  was occupied and
barefoot.  Only he wasn't in any position to attack as his hands were
still tied and he was about as useful as an action man doll.

The man looked across and caught his eye.  'What you looking at huh?'

'Nothing,' Davy muttered and hung his head.

'Yeah well don't you go thinkin you can do what you want cause you
can't.  I'm the boss now and I can do what I want to you.  Your fancy
high and mighty policeman father can't do nuttin to save you.'  He
finished lacing his boots and stood up.  He marched over to Davy and
stood over him.  Davy kept looking at the ground.  'I'm going to give
him a day to get nice and stewed up.  Then I'm gonna to let him think
he can do something to save you.'  He tossed his head back and gave a
manic chuckle.  'Then I'm gonna to show him that he can't.  What do
ya think of that kid?  Huh?'  He bent down and jerked Davy's chin up.
 'I said what did you think of that?'

The look of fright Davy gave him was sufficient to satisfy him.  What
he didn't realise was that Davy hadn't been looking at him and he
couldn't hear him.  Davy had no idea what he had just said; he was
just plain frightened.   He settled back on his heels and surveyed
his captive. 'You're a pretty boy aren't you.'  He gave his groin a
rub and licked his lips.  He tipped his head to one side and raised
Davy's chin so he was looking at him again.  'You want to have a bit
of fun while we're waiting for these beans?'

Davy swallowed and tried to hold his gaze.  He had no idea what the
man was talking about.

His captor ran his finger down his cheek.  'Smooth.'

He flinched away. 'Don't.'

The guy grabbed his collar and pulled him closer, on his knees in
front of  him.  He grabbed his head and tried to push it into his
groin but Davy  fought.  He wasn't having that.  There was no way he
was putting his head somewhere that nasty and smelly.  'No!' he
yelled.  He was pushed harder and had no purchase and no way of
holding back except to wriggle.  If he could have bit the bastard he
would have but no limbs got in the way of his mouth.  He kept
screaming.

Suddenly he was rammed head first into the dirt, his mouth and nose
filling with it, a heavy weight coming down across his back.  He lay
still, winded as the body above him twisted, then suddenly went limp.
 His captor toppled forward, across Davy, covering him completely.
He didn't move.  Startled Davy froze but the man didn't even twitch.
Davy  fought to get his nose away from the dirt, weighed down as he
was by the  man on top of him.  He turned his head coughing and saw
blood.  He  stared.  A bright red pool was forming beside the man's
head.  There  could be no question his kidnapper was dead.

Then he saw something else.  Beyond the red of the blood was a
different  red, the red of tomato sauce.  And just beyond the spilt
baked beans was a flickering of orange.  The flame from the fallen
cooker was licking at the  torn canvas of the stretcher.  Davy
couldn't see anything else from  underneath the body but he knew he
was in trouble.  He couldn't move.   He started to scream.
 
 

Mulder pulled up short, blinking to clear his vision.  God dammit!
He'd  been following Rangitu and Rangitu was gone.  Fuck.  He reached
for a  tree, hanging on and trying to catch his breath, aware of
Scully right  behind him.  The wooshing of his own blood filled his
ears.  Scully was speaking but he couldn't hear what she said.

The brown haze in front of his eyes slowly lifted and he looked back
to see that she wasn't looking at him at all.  She was looking
around, at full alert.  Puzzled Mulder swept his gaze around the
surrounding bush and slowly saw what it was that Scully saw.

He let out a low whistle.

She held her finger to her lips.  He didn't need telling.  In awe he
slowly took in the sight of the bush that wasn't.  Sure the canopy
trees were there, from above this part of the forest would look
exactly the same as the rest of it, but all the undergrowth had been
removed and something else grew in its place.  The forest floor had
been set out in cultivated plots.  The plants in those plots were
lush and green and different plots showed different stages of growth
with some of the plants reaching nearly eight foot in height.  Mulder
and Scully were standing in the  middle of the largest cannabis
plantation either of them had ever seen.

Without speaking they somehow knew they were in the right place.
Somewhere here, in amongst all of this, they would find where Davy was
being held.

As quietly as he could Mulder started back down the narrow path.  His
only excuse for what happened next was that he was too exhausted to be
thinking straight.  Several things happened simultaneously. Scully
called  out "Mulder!" and plucked at his sleeve, his foot caught on
something  and he fell forward and there was suddenly a tremendous and
shocking bang.

Mulder sat up slowly, testing his body for injuries, disbelieving when
he found none.  Deafened and dazed by the shotgun blast he finally
looked at Scully who was lying face down on the ground a few feet
away.  For a  sickening moment his world lurched and he froze in place
unable to  move.  God no!  No, no, no.  Not Scully.  'Nooo...' Then he
was moving, crawling to her.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  The phrase
rolled around in his head.  Booby traps, booby traps.  It is a
cannabis plantation, of course  there are booby traps.  Scully,
Scully.  Be alright Scully.

'Scully.'  Tentatively he reached for her and she groaned.

He swallowed a gasp of relief.  'Don't move Scully.  Just lie still.
Are you hurt?  Are you okay?'  He ran a hand down her back.  'Can you
feel me?'  He couldn't see any blood.  Jesus where was she hurt?  'Do
you hurt anywhere Scully?  Don't try and move.  God I'm so sorry.
You'll be okay.  Just don't try and move.'

Scully moaned again.  'Mulder.  Get me up.'

'Are you hurt?'

She rolled slightly and gave a gasp.  'Oww.  Shut up Mulder.  Don't
start blathering again.'  She turned onto her back clutching her left
arm.

'Scully...'

She hissed at him.  'I said shut it!  Help me up.'

Awkwardly he tried.  First she sat and then shakily got to her feet.
She still held on to her arm.  Mulder held on to her.  He hovered,
his eyes wide with concern but he kept his mouth shut.  Slowly the
realisation sank in that she was not seriously hurt; a sprain or at
worst a break.   Either way she would be fine.  Somehow they had both
managed to avoid so much as a single pellet from a point blank blast
of a booby trapped shot gun.  The gun in question hung from a
complicated tangle of fishing twine right beside his shoulder.
Another piece of green line ran across the path, literarily the trip
wire.  If it hadn't tripped him...  If it had just triggered the
gun...  He gulped and looked at Scully to see she was thinking the
same.

With that his other senses kicked back in.  They were looking for Davy
and his kidnapper.  If there was anyone around they would be well
aware  of their presence by now.  The shotgun had made sure of that.
They had  totally lost any advantage of surprise.  And, if there was
one booby trap  set there would be more.

'Which way?' he asked quietly.  'We can't use the path.'

Scully was standing very still.  'Listen.'

He shook his head.  'I can't...' The blast had upset his hearing.
Shaking  his head didn't help.  'What?'

Scully dived into the marijuana bushes and started running.  'Scully
be  careful.'  But she wasn't listening.  And then he heard it too, a
high  pitched scream of pure terror.

They burst out of the rows of head high plants to see right in front
of  them a small shed.  It was small; a six foot cube, and flimsily
built of  corrugated iron.  Sometime in the past it had been
camouflaged with fern  fronds and other greenery.  They were long
since dry now and  horrifyingly engulfed in swirling flames.

Mulder stood, rooted to the spot with panic as Scully raced to circle
the  building, trying to see inside.  The flames were eating up the
dry ferns  and running out of fuel on the outside but the inside
seemed to contain a  mass of fire.  Mulder's worst fear was fire, his
mind flashed with visions  of flames and massacres and people running
screaming as their huts burnt  around them.  He saw warriors with
spears attacking and Rangitu and his  weapon flashing just out of
sight, holding the attackers at bay as he tried  to reach the burning
hut where his mother was held captive.  He fell slain,
and the hut collapsed in a shower of sparks.

Just then Scully reappeared and the screaming started again.  The
battle was gone but the horror remained.  It was definitely Davy
screaming and he was definitely inside the burning struc