JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (20/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

See disclaimer in Chapter 1.

Chapter 20

     Mulder's breathing still wasn't back to normal. Certainly
his heart rate wasn't. After what he had just been through,
neither may ever be normal again.

     There was a term for what had been done to him, but even
rape was inadequate to describe this kind of violation of mind
and body and soul. He was still laid out on his stomach, his arms
stretched out and cuffed to the headboard. They hadn't tied his
ankles. There was no reason to. The stinking, sweating beasts who
had crawled up behind him one after another had trapped his legs
often enough.

     With that disarmingly mild grin of his, Forsyth had begun
the proceedings by explaining how important it was that Mulder
meet each and every member of the yacht's all-male crew. After
all, Forsyth planned for them to be out of sight of land for
weeks and they'd all be running into each other so often. Even
though the "Ravish" was large for a sail-powered yacht, it was,
after all, just a ship. There would be no place to hide. It was
certainly a unique method of introduction considering that Mulder
saw little to none of their faces. It was easier to hide his own
in the thin pillow that reeked of the bile he had gagged up. That
way, they didn't see his either.

     Now that he could finally catch his breath, Mulder
dispassionately searched within and with just as much detachment
noted that he felt no shame. This was torture, pure and simple
and Mulder had been tortured often enough in the past to know. It
was something you just endured and he had endured plenty - as Fox
the child and the adolescent and later Mulder, the professional,
had learned long ago.

     Of course, he could just be numb. It could all come back to
him later given the right trigger. That was certainly something
to look forward to.

     He noted that there was at least one significant difference
between the current party and the weeks he had spent at the
Caverns before Jake found him. He had been no kind of a
participant this time. No sparkling golden liquid. It was also
too bad that the paralysis from the dart had worn off. Even
partial paralysis would have been welcome. There would have been
that much less of him that would have remembered being
'introduced' to Forsyth's crew.

     Oh, he had tried. Part of the enduring torture was to
distance yourself and he'd managed to induce near catatonia until
Forsyth's physician, Dr. Stein, had intervened with one of his
stomach-churning potions. Not the Gold, just something to keep
him from regressing too far. Distraction then. Down to the
minutest detail, Mulder had relived every hopeless moment in his
life that had turned out to have a silver lining. More often than
not the 'silver' had red hair and cool, competent hands and the
quietness of silent, starry night about her.

     What depressed him the most was that in the future these
memories were all he would ever have of Scully. Smiling broadly
this time, Forsyth had made it clear that neither the combined
efforts of the FBI, nor some wandering long lost 'cousin', would
have the opportunity to pick up the pieces this time. Momentarily
clear-headed, Mulder had allowed himself an anger such as he had
seldom known before. He had seldom felt so alone, either, not in
his whole solitary life. Hard under those circumstances to keep
the anger from turning to despair. Such a fine sharp edge to
dance on. Luckily, Forsyth was there by the bedside through the
whole ordeal. He clearly wanted to see his Mulder's face as he
made the acquaintance of each new crewman. Of course, that meant
that Mulder saw Forsyth's as well which helped renew the rage
during the hours in which the men had processed one by one
through the cabin.

     Now they were alone again. Forsyth was sitting contentedly
on the edge of the bed, smoking his pipe. The sickeningly sweet
smoke was a cherry blend that Forsyth especially liked. Mulder
didn't remember many details from the 'before' time - before Jake
had raised him out of his drugged stupor - but he remembered that
Forsyth always smoked this blend, after he had played some
special attention to his favorite victim.

     If he ever got free and even if he attended every rape
counseling course the FBI ordered, Mulder knew that it would be a
struggle not to commit serious mayhem if he ever caught anyone
smoking that particular blend in his presence ever again.

     Still facing his prisoner's bare and much-abused 'south'
end, the athletically built, white-haired man took a rather loud
and rather obnoxious puff and drawled, "Do you know why I like
you, Agent Mulder? You don't talk too much and yet you hate with
such pure abandon. Like the way you hate me now. If you had the
power to make me burst into flames and send my soul to hell, you
would do it. I don't even need to see it in your eyes or in the
set of that exquisite jaw of yours. It bleeds through your skin!
Did Agent Scully ever tell you how beautiful you are when you're
angry?" Forsyth paused while Mulder's eyes burned his effrontery.
With his arms still spread out towards the wall in their
restraints, it was hard to 'twist' his body around to glare at
this white-collar gangster. 'Twist' was not the first word that
came to mind.

     Trying to think of a good retort, Mulder had to also reject
the first one of those to hover on his cut and bruised lips.
'Kiss my ass' would not have been the smartest of choices under
the present circumstances. A certain white-haired sadist would
undoubtedly take it as a come on and Mulder didn't want to give
that bastard any ideas. Mulder was weary to death of being
drugged and poked and whipped and invaded. His body bled inside
with such a deep and intimate, tearing pain. Could such a depth
of hurt ever heal?

     "No, I guess she never did tell you about how savagely
magnificent you can be. Pity. You two just never talked about the
important things in life, did you?"

     "Is this some new kind of torture? Talking a man to death?"
Mulder was shocked by the broken croak that was all that was left
of his voice. When had he screamed so? Considering the screaming
his body was doing now as he tried to move it even a little into
an less vulnerable position, he must have done quite a bit over
the last few hours and often.

      The cracked words came out slow but slightly stronger the
second time around. "I had a few minutes with A.D. Skinner before
we were so pointedly interrupted. He told me a little about this
crime that I was supposedly witness to. You have the wrong man, I
wasn't there. I can't tell you a thing, I never could."

     Forsyth took another puff on the pipe, even going so far as
to change his position so that the smoke drifted across his
prisoner's face. "Oh, we figured that out long ago."

     They knew?

     "Then why keep on? I was too drugged for any testimony of
mine to hold up in court. You never would have been convicted."

     "True, true." A well-manicured hand slid over firm buttocks.
A shiver a revulsion flowed over Mulder's muscles despite their
owner's commands to lie still. He didn't need Forsyth to
misinterpret such trembling as arousal. Too late. There was
amusement and satisfaction in the man's voice when he spoke
again. "We admit we made a mistake there but at the time the boys
needed practice in their interrogation techniques and you were
such a tough nut. Perfect. You were so angry and so delightful in
other ways. And that was even before the 'Gold'. Surprised us
there. You have the most amazing sensitivity to the stuff. I
cannot tell you how pleased my guests have been."

     Mulder let that pass without comment. What could he say? To
his regret, it was probably true.

     "Why are you letting me see your people?"

     "Do you mean that now I'll have to kill you? Oh, what a
waste that would be. We are letting you see us now and we are
telling you what you've been told before - but which you've
obviously forgotten - in order to fuel that anger of yours. I
have a feeling that you're going to need hate over the next
couple of days - that is, if you want to live - and I do so want
you to live. I've bought an island of my own, did I tell you?
Half a world away. My own little pleasure palace where you are to
be the star. Your own ivory tower. 'Yours' meaning you'll be on
the inside. Always. And it won't be a public place like the Club.
I won't make that mistake again. Just my staff and a few special
clients of my own. And your friends will not find it. Not this
time. Not ever."

     Reflectively, Forsyth rested his fine, slender white fingers
on his chin as he thought. "Bright jewel though you may be, I
think I'll need to expand the selection. Variety, you know. This
'cousin' of your, for example. Not a lot of variety there except
in quantity, of course, but very intriguing. And he's well-
trained or so I hear, unlike you, my angry one."

     Mulder's legs were curled at the moment, allowing him to
make of himself an awkward, semi-protected ball of naked arms and
legs up against the headboard. He considered lashing out with
those legs and kicking the bastard, but he'd only be punished for
it. Forsyth seemed mild but he had a temper and there were
sufficient sharp objects around the room to do considerable
damage and Mulder hurt quite enough at the moment.

     His own hesitation worried him. Was this just the beginning
of more compromises to come? If Forsyth had his way, maybe over
the months and years he had before the bastard grew tired of
tormenting him he'd become a right proper little mongrel. Would
he learn to come when called with his tail between his legs?

     Whip me again, Master. Fuck me again.

     Seriously frightened by the direction his tired mind had
turned, Mulder shook his head violently to clear it.

     None of that. No giving up. He couldn't be completely beyond
help. He had been unconscious only a few hours, a half-day at
most, and they were traveling on some large sail-rigged craft.
How many miles could such a ship travel in that kind of time,
even when as large as this elegant creation?

     Mulder wanted to ask about Skinner's fate... and Scully's...
and how they had gotten him out of the hotel once the dart hit.
But that wouldn't do any good since he could never believe the
answers. No, just cling to the belief that help was coming. Even
if it took three months or three years, he would never give up on
those two. And then there was Jake. Forsyth hadn't meant to allow
him any kind of hope but the slip that his 'cousin' was alive
meant much.

     There was one thing he could ask. "So are you going to tell
me why I'm going to need so much anger over the next few days?"

     Forsyth raised an eyebrow and unwound himself with an agile
strength from the bed to move into Mulder's line-of-sight.
"You'll figure it out for yourself before so very long so I'll
tell you this much: Your friends are coming." Forsyth raised a
hand. "No, don't ask who, I won't tell you. You only need to know
that they seek to remove you from my loving care and I'd really
hate to lose you again. But we are on a boat, as you've probably
noticed, so my options on how to keep you safe are limited. I'm
afraid there will be some risk."

     "Ever think of trying out for the part of the evil villain
in B-Grade movies?" Mulder snarled. "You've got the evil grin
part down flat. Do you have an insane laugh as well?"

     Forsyth's mouth stretched into a real grin. "I must remember
when this little crisis is over, not to keep you drugged so much
of the time. You have quite the artful tongue. Maybe I'll even
get the chance to wash it out with soap. That would be novel, but
there's no time now."

     Face masking over into something more serious, Forsyth
clicked his elegant fingers. There was a noise and movement
outside. In a few seconds, a muscular crewman appeared. He filled
the small cabin. Mulder did not like the knowing leer on his
face. A second man was hidden by the first. He came into view
now. Mulder knew that face, that affected, elegant posture. It
was fair-haired Keith, Forsyth's constant companion, his
secretary, and his aging "boy". The blond one had once been
slender but had begun to broaden with middle age. His expression
upon seeing Mulder was one of only thinly veiled hostility.

     "Take our new cabin boy up to the deck and get him ready.
I've had news. We're going to need to implement our little
contingency plan sooner than I expected.

     There was nothing Mulder wanted more than to fight, but he
didn't have a tenth the strength he would need to put up even a
laughable defense especially against the big brute. After the
restraints were removed and the muscle-bound crewman and Keith
hauled his limp body off the bed, he sagged to a humiliating
puddle on the floor, his only view that of three sets of
boatshoes. He was carried out of the cabin, slung like a sack of
grain between the two crewmen. Compared to the stench inside the
closed cabin, at least the air on deck was blessedly fresh and
clean. Only the all-invasive smell of diesel fuel for the backup
engine soured the affect.

     The blond one carried his feet. As the tropical sun hit that
thinning hair and that scowl, Mulder felt a sick, stirring of
memory. Now he remembered where he'd seen both men before. They
are been part of the team who had accompanied him to the island
to start with. Dr. Stein had inserted the implants into the
muscle of his inner thigh on that memorable inbound flight. The
numbing drug that sapped his will had been his constant companion
for the next three months. A cool, efficient woman had
accompanied them on that trip as well.

     Though his mind was hazy when it came to 'Gold' parties over
the following weeks, he remembered she had been present often
because she was the only woman he had seen other than the Cavern
staff. Surprisingly, she had been almost kind - when she wasn't
being watched. He also remembered her still, staring face. One
weekend a lot of drugs had flowed and not all into him. She had
O.D.'d. Without a second thought, Forsyth had had her wrapped in
a sheet and carried off to his private jet by two of the laughing
party-goers as if she were just some stupid, drunk broad. No
doubt her body was dumped over the ocean on the jet's way back to
the mainland.

     That would likely be his fate when Forsyth became bored.
Like he with Samantha, Scully would never know.

     Mulder's dizzying passage across the deck suddenly stopped
and he was dropped quite unceremoniously. Since he was still
naked in every way, the deck paint, which was mixed with sand for
traction, scraped his skin. The big crewman disappeared and
returned momentarily with a black wetsuit. Instantly, Mulder had
images of a kind of play he'd only heard about and had no
interest in learning more. Leaning against the rail, the blue of
the ocean and gleaming brass of the railing making his pristine
tennis whites sparkle, Forsyth puffed on his pipe. His amused
smile indicated that he had read his victim's thoughts

     "I do like the way your mind turns, Agent Mulder, but
there's not time for that now. Maybe later."

     Snarling, Keith now approached with what looked like an
oxygen bottle and a mask - and the cuffs again. The crewman with
the wetsuit laid it out on the desk. Unzipping it, he stepped
back clearly impatient for Mulder to crawl in.

     "Yes, that's for you. Get in now like the nice obedient
bitch you've been taught to be and don't make trouble. We are in
a hurry and if you don't comply Samuel here will have to force
you and may just break something in the process."

     Forsyth still leaned against the rail, his expression far
from playful now. The man meant business. Meanwhile, Keith and
Samuel went about making other preparations, but they were
clearly eager to provide any muscle Forsyth required.
Reluctantly, Mulder reached for the gleaming black garment.

     Wetsuits are hard enough for a healthy person to don and
Mulder's muscles were still weak as water. In the end he had to
accept help. To his surprise, Samuel possessed a reasonable level
of dexterity. He nearly unhinged Mulder's right elbow but that
was all. There were boots and a head covering and gloves all in
the same basic black. Very soon, every inch of Mulder's skin was
covered except for his face, but there was no sign of flippers or
the traditional facemask and regulator. His gloved hands were
cuffed behind his back. No one spoke to him. He waited.

     Whatever they were going to do, Mulder wished they would
hurry. The sun was hot and he was beginning to definitely wilt
from the heat. A third crewman brought him a sports bottle with a
flexible tube. The bottle was filled with some clear liquid.
Mulder refused.

     "It's just water and I'd advice that you drink as much as
you can hold," Forsyth said. "You may not get any more for some
time."

     Not liking the sound of that and deciding that he had more
to gain than lose, Mulder sucked on the tube and drank. Though
warm and flat, the wetness did feel good in his parched mouth and
going down his sore throat. As he drank, a cargo net was laid on
the deck and yet another member of the crew rolled forward a
large blue barrel and positioned it over the net. The ship came
equipped with a large swinging arm, which it probably used to
bring supplies up from the dock. It was swung over near the
barrel ready to pull up net and barrel, contents and all -and
place it where?

     The fear infusing every inch of Mulder's exhausted body did
a pretty good job of churning up the water in his stomach as if
it was being whipped by a typhoon.

     Hand to his ear, Forsyth was listening to someone over his
cellphone. "Let's close it up, boys," he said at the end of the
call. "No more time."

     The top came off the barrel like the lid of an oatmeal box.
Keith and Samuel picked Mulder up as if they were huge children
and he just a toy they needed to put away. Mulder's long legs
went down into the barrel, but they had to be folded. While he
still sat upright, they strapped a full mask tightly over his
face. It covered from chin to eyebrows. Tubing ran from the mask
to the bottle compressed air. Both tubing and bottle were tossed
in onto Mulder's lap. Finally, they forced his head down just to
make certain there was room for the lid to close. Uncomfortable
did not begin to describe the condition of his twisted body;
terror did not begin to describe his surging helplessness. Like a
geyser capped by a stone, the pressure would have to go
somewhere, sometime.

     Forsyth came to look down at him. There was another man at
his side. An older, gray man whose hands were coldly familiar.
Ah, yes, Dr. Stein. Forsyth dropped what looked like a radio into
the barrel.

     "Homing beacon. Scrambled frequency. You'd better hope that
we're in a position in come back to pick you up or you're going
to be down there for a very long time. You're awareness of time,
however, will be finite. After about twelve hours you're going to
cease to care." Forsyth rested his elbows on the rim and smiled.
"You look like death already, Agent Mulder. Sweating a bit, are
we? Don't worry, I'll be back as soon as I can, if I can. Like I
said, I really don't want to lose you. You know the law, though,
so you understand about Habeas Corpus and can appreciate my
position. If there's no body, they can't prove a thing. Besides,
maybe you'll be more cooperative when we uncork you. Until then,
however, Dr. Stein here will give you something to occupy your
mind." Forsyth looked over at the older man at his side. "Give
him a nice big dose, John."

     Canyon-sized wrinkles on the sides of the doctor's mouth
deepened. "Hold him still," he murmured.

     Mulder couldn't move but seeing the syringe coming his way
filled with the sparkling, golden liquid, he certainly tried.
Every muscle he had erupted in total panic but by then two pairs
of hard seaman's hands had reached in and were holding him down.
One hand lightly covered with red blond hair, roughly pulled his
head to the side, while the other stretched the neck of his hood
so that the doctor could get to one of the huge neck veins.

     The needle must have been blunted. It felt like a knife
sliding under his skin. The fluid burned like fire. It was so bad
that Mulder didn't even notice when the hands disappeared. He did
notice, however, when the lid came down. In an instant he was
enfolded as totally in blackness as he was in pain.

     At least he was finally had some privacy. The first he'd had
since Jake had awakened him back in the Caverns. Maybe too alone,
however. In addition to himself, his world contained only one
little green star in his world, the little green activation light
on the homing device that lay in his lap next to the oxygen
bottle. The little lime-green star blinked slowly on and off in
his personal light.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     Jake struggled with the map of the island as Elliot drove
like a mad man. Everyone clenched their teeth, said their prayers
and clung to their seats but no one told him to slow down.

     "Where's this lighthouse?" Skinner asked, his voice raised
to be heard over the noise of their passage.

     Elliot took his eyes off the narrow road just long enough to
point to a spot on the map out in the ocean. "There's a string of
small atolls in this area - shallow water and some reef. It's not
much of a lighthouse but there is a beacon to warn the ships. It
is right on the heading most of the cruise ships use when they
come from the mainland to the island. Yes, and they do have what
you Easterners would call a foghorn. They activate the thing
every time a ship of any size comes or goes. For those who have
been to the island before it's become a landmark. The sound sort
of gets the juices flowing."

     "And it's the only one like this?" Skinner asked.

     Elliot nodded. "The only one."

     "You've got your people on their way?"

     "Some are already there."

     "They'll wait for us though?"

     "Absolutely. They're tracking all the ships in the area for
us and they have a fast boat waiting for us. Forsyth won't get
away."

     Skinner glanced over at Scully. She was as white as a he'd
ever seen her. She took no comfort in Elliot Slater's words.
Things could go so wrong. Maybe Mulder had been taken off board
already. Sailboat owners often kept swift little powerboats
onboard or towed behind. Forsyth had sufficient resources that he
could call in a helicopter if he felt threatened. He could even
have leased a submarine complete with crew, what with the
Russians being desperate for American dollars.

     Or maybe all he had to do was catch his prey up in his arms
and vanish back into hell where he came from.

End of Chapter 20
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (21/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Chapter 21

     The barrel floated. In fact it floated too well. It bobbed
like a cork, pitching and yawing and rolling on the restless sea.
In addition to all his other reasons for panic, Mulder came up
with a new one as he braced himself inside his bottle. What if he
got seasick and threw up into his facemask? With no use of his
hands he wouldn't be able to clear the mask. He could aspirate
the vomit. He could die pretty horribly. That was the tenth
pretty horrible death that had come to mind in the last five
minutes.

     Five minutes? It already felt like five hours. He'd
unconsciously learned to keep tell time by the blinking green
light, however, and it had been only five minutes.

     The movement had been bad enough when the boat's cargo arm
first hoisted the barrel up off the deck. Mulder had left his
stomach behind then. Still reeling from the terror of having
Stein's needle jabbed into his neck, the frightening jerk and
swing had come as a shock. Then the barrel had begun swinging in
its sling. That jerky flying must have happened when the cargo
arm swiveled out over the sea. That had been far worse.

     Then the cargo net lowered and the barrel struck the rolling
surface of the sea. There was no mistaking air for water. Mulder
held his breath expecting to feel the gush of cold salty water.
With his luck the thing would leak, but as completely encased in
the wet suit as he was, he couldn't feel any wetness except for
the sweat running freely inside his suit. At least he couldn't
hear any trickling but then with all the noise from the slapping
of the water against the plastic sides of his barrel, he couldn't
have heard a kitchen faucet turned on full.

     At least in that respect, they had sealed his cask
correctly. Still, such things had been used as coffins before.
They used to bury primitive men in clay jars.

     Mulder sometimes wished he was not so well read.

     A new sound. Something sliding over the top of what was
probably 'up' but because of the rolling was to Mulder closer to
being over his right shoulder. The rolling stopped. The up...
down... slide right... slide left... dip lessened significantly,
then lessened even more and finally stopped except for a gentle
sort of sway. A little while later and with his head feeling
tight, Mulder released his held breath. His ears popped.

     Somehow they'd gotten the buoyant barrel to sink. They must
have attached weights to it somehow. That was a little detail
Mulder had hoped they had forgotten. It would have been hard to
miss a bright blue cask bobbing on the surface of the gray sea.
His stomach appreciated being below the raging top layer of
ocean, however.

     The cask sank and sank. Then came a pause, then a shift to
the right, then a movement left and scratching sounds. Someone
was outside or more than one someone. Late in the preparations,
Keith and Samuel as well as two others had been moving about the
deck in diving gear. Mulder sensed them maneuvering his coffin
into place. They took their time. They had clearly wanted it just
so.

     Finally, they must have had it where they wanted it because
all movement ceased. Mulder's barrel was anchored... somewhere.
By the pressure in his ears and in his chest, he wasn't too deep.
Thirty feet maybe. Maybe forty.

     Someone rapped on the side of the cask. What was that for?
To see if he was still alive? Did they really care? It was like
the tolling of a funeral bell. Mulder debated whether to signal
back but finally managed to use his knee to tap the tiny oxygen
cylinder very carefully against the side. It made a dead sound.
There came several more rapid taps from outside and then -
nothing except for the strong but erratic beat of his heart.

     Mulder waited, his body tense for - something. He had nearly
convinced himself during the descent that this was all just a
scare tactic of Forsyth's to get him to sit up and beg. If so it
was certainly effective. Mulder had already shed about a hundred
scruples about what he would or would not do to Forsyth when he
got the sadistic bastard alone. About half his fantasies involved
killing the slime in about the messiest, most agonizing way
Mulder could think of which at the moment was pretty bloody
nasty.

     The other half involved doing exactly what Forsyth wanted
him to do, probably for the rest of his life, if only the monster
would let him out of here. Paralyzing terror can do that to a
person. Mulder licked his lips and tasted sweat and blood. When
had he bitten his lip or was he even now gnawing them raw?

     Was this all a method for demanding a little obedience or
was this just a particularly hellish way of committing murder?
Either reason seemed extreme 'to the max' but Mulder hoped it was
the former because despite the bleakness of his future, even if
it were Forsyth who came back to pull the cork on the bottle,
Mulder wanted to live. While there was life there was still hope
of escape. Perhaps even of rescue - again.

      Mulder lay on his side where he had finally come to rest.
As eternity in the absolute silence lumbered on. He counted the
little green light and tried to breathe very, very slowly. The
light seemed to blink every two seconds. After three hundred and
fifty blinks, without a sound, without a hint of movement, with
the combined mass of the water above and the earth below crushing
in on him, Mulder realized that this was no simple scare tactic.
Forsyth might have been telling the truth. It looked like they
weren't coming back, at least not until it was safe to do so. If
Skinner and Scully accosted Forsyth, Mulder realized that he
might as well not waste he energy worrying. They would come
sweeping down on Forsyth's ship and they wouldn't relent for such
a little thing as not actually finding his body. They certainly
wouldn't leave the man free to retrieve his blue barrel and all
it contained as he skipped out of town.

     I'm going to die here.

     Forsyth would not be coming back, certainly not in time. In
his arrogance Forsyth was prepared to hide behind Habeas Corpus
but Skinner would find some charge to hold the millionaire on.
Scully would sit on the man's chest and claw out his throat with
her nails before she would let his ship go.

     Oh... Scully....

     The thought of her brought up another reason for Mulder to
stop worrying about Forsyth and dying. There was this other
distraction. His heart rate was no longer twice the beat of the
little green metronome; it was more like three times and rising.
His temperature was rising too, his skin beginning to burn and
itch like fire inside his black seal-like skin. The sweat poring
into his eyes felt like acid. His blood was boiling. They had put
him in the suit to keep him from freezing. Maybe it would grow
cold in here in time but it wasn't now.

     He was cooking. He had managed to ignore what the 'Gold' was
doing to his body when there had been so much going when, when he
had been compiling his twenty ways to die. Now with his options
much reduced - there it was. His very own personal devil.

     Get ready to rock and roll, Fox.

     How? With whom? His crotch was already getting awfully
tight. He shouldn't have thought about Scully sitting on
Forsyth's chest ripping his throat out. That wasn't like her.
She'd just shoot the bastard in a painful and vital spot.

     No, the positioning had been the Gold's doing. Erotic
really. The next few minutes were going to be so very
interesting. After that he knew from experience that he wouldn't
remember much. Just as well. The problem was the 'Gold' demanded
that his body respond, that it do something that usually involved
ravishing other people or at the very least ravishing oneself.
The torture Forsyth had devised may just back fire. Encased in a
skintight wet suit, his hands bound, there was no room to move.
No way to release the sexual tension that was boiling up like a
volcano inside him.

     Ah, another reason not to waste his time worrying about his
future. Even if they did get around to opening the cask before he
died of hypoxia or hypothermia, they would most likely only
recover a madman.

     Best then that they not bother to come at all.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     The rescue team boarded 'The Ravish' accompanied by six of
the Elliot's personal security guards. These were nothing like
the little man who had come to Dana's room with concerns over
being unable to rouse Skinner. These were commandos - young,
muscular, stern, and gorgeous men who wielded their rifles with
skill. The fact that they probably had other duties besides
playing Arnold Schwartzenager didn't mean that they didn't know
their job. They would have been an effective deterrent if Forsyth
and his crew had given any kind of resistance. Unfortunately for
Dana's strung out nerves, Forsyth gave them absolutely no excuse
for pulling out the rough stuff.

     There was no immediate sign of Mulder either.

     "Move!" Skinner barked to his temporary army, his voice
still weak from the paralysis but with command enough. "Search
this tug. I want Agent Mulder found. And God help you," Skinner
growled threateningly to Forsyth, "if that man dies, you'll
answer to _me_ and that's will be a hundred times worse than any
devil you can conjure up."

     Forsyth didn't flinch. He remained as calm and aloof the way
only the rich and powerful can. Clearly, he was confident that
they wouldn't find anything.

     They didn't and they looked everywhere - cabins, closets,
the cargo hold, equipment lockers. They found nothing. In the
cargo hold there were two dozen large, blue, man-sized barrels
and each one was opened. About half contained the expected
supplies for a long voyage, tools and foodstuffs, second and
thirds of every one of the ship's critical parts. The other
half...

     Dana stared at a chandelier packed in red, silk sheets.

     Forsyth coughed behind her. "Household articles," he
explained, languidly. "I'm setting up a new place." If so, the
new place would have rich and gaudy furnishings indeed. Working
together, Jake and Elliot found a barrel of the adult 'toys' such
as were found in only the most elaborate Club rooms.

     "Definitely not your run of the mill little weekend vacation
cabin," Elliot murmured. The fact that they found four large
animal carriers in one of the staterooms also raised everyone's
blood pressure. Two housed huge, ferocious guard dogs. In the
third crate dozed a beautiful young woman with empty eyes. She
wore a sleek fake fur jump suit, with tail, and a thick
rhinestone dog collar. By her own admission she was not being
held against her will. Her cage could even be opened from the
inside.

     Bile rising in his throat, Jake rushed to the fourth cage,
but it was empty. Empty, that is, except for a blindfold, cuffs,
and gag such as the Club used. Jake felt some huge indescribable
emotion hunker down to sit on his chest. He showed Skinner but
not Dana what he had found. It was bad enough that an unconscious
or semi-conscious Mulder had probably been brought onto the ship
at all. The only thing worse than being delivered on board in
such an ignominious fashion was the fact that Mulder was no
longer there. Without a word, Skinner taped the box in yellow
police tape. They might need trace evidence yet.

     After an hour of frantic searching revealed nothing, they
began again, only more meticulous this time. This time there was
a lot of measuring and looking for secret compartments. Skinner
even had the two huge dogs pulled out of their carriers to check
to see if either of the carriers had a false back. One did and
they wasted minutes only to find that it only contained dog food.
Forsyth shrugged innocently and went back to his Manhattan ice
tea. The compartment was probably quite an effective place for
passing illegal substances through customs but too small for
anything but a child.

     It was hot on the deck of the schooner and Jake sweated, but
as one hour slipped into two and then passed, he realized that
there was something wrong that had nothing to do with the sun and
the heat. He was near the bow and had been searching around and
inside a half dozen of the blue plastic barrels that were being
stored near the two inflatable lifeboats. Over the last few
minutes he had felt some unexplainable anxiety settle over him.
It was as if he were being watched. Without any more warning than
that he began to feel ill. He flashed hot and then cold and then
both at once. There was an odd tightness in his chest and he
couldn't seem to catch his breath. And then there was this
overall jumpy, nervous feeling as if hundreds of restless bugs
were crawling about inside his skin. Like a ravaging flu, the
sickness spread so rapidly that he felt too awful, too quickly to
even ask for help and then it didn't matter. He really didn't
want anyone. As if he were some wounded animal, he just wanted to
be alone. Someone must have seen him seek the cool, private
darkness out of the sun, under the gangway; however, otherwise,
Dana would not have found him until much later.

     She called his name but he didn't respond. He just huddled
into a tighter ball in the corner, his arms limp at his sides and
his head on his raised knees. It felt as heavy as lead and he
found that he didn't have the strength to lift it. More
disturbing than the sweats and the chills and the weakness, there
was this breathing problem. He couldn't seem to be take in
enough air, The harder and faster he tried, however, the worse he
felt. Dizzy now, too dizzy to stand and try to work out the
shakes. If he had been able to think, he might have wondered
where this illness had come from but thinking wasn't an option
given to him. It was all he could do just to endure the anxiety
and dread that burned through every aching nerve in his body.

     For some unexplainable reason he was dying. In the weeks
just before he had found the Club, he would not have minded
dying, but now he didn't have the luxury. This pale-faced woman
who leaned over him and placed her cool hand against his throat
to find a pulse needed him. And Fox, his strange other self,
needed him. It was all Jake's fault that Mulder had once more
been captured by his enemies.

     Those cool hands were on his forehead now, now rolling him
onto his side. A firm but gentle voice commanded him to relax but
it was as if his muscles had hardened into stone. All he could do
was stay curled like a terrified child, his sight darkening now,
sound fading away.

     He felt the footfalls through the deck against his back.
Running steps. Someone brought blankets. Their rough wool
scratched the bare skin of his arms and legs. They put a paper
bag over his nose and mouth and told him to go ahead and breath
now. Stupid, he was breathing! As if his very life depended on
it, he was breathing! He would have pushed the bag away but he
couldn't lift his arms.

     "Jake, you have to calm down." The voice was so faint, so
far away.

     Calm down? Between one breath and the next he was dying, how
could she expect him to calm down!

     Ever darker now. And quieter. And very cold. The hard deck
of the ship - gone. The roughness of the blankets - gone. Even
_she_ was far, far away. Unable to reach Mulder, unable to help
as Mulder had come to his aid, Jake's world focused down to just
the crying of the blood in his veins and the frantic, galloping
beat of his heart. Then there was the dark, the eternal night.
Black except for one tiny green light, his star, which blinked
with agonizing slowness on and off in the velvet cold.

     He didn't want to die, certainly not this way. Not gasping
and salivating like some rabid dog, every nerve burning with such
a searing heat that there should be flames, an inferno of flames,
but there was only that one tiny light... He shivered deep with
the cold. Maybe not burning as much as he had thought at first.
The thin air and the creeping cold had smothered most of the
heat.

     This was no the way to die. He had always believed that he
would die in battle, the solid weight of his raised weapon in his
hand as he guarded her sprint for cover from the corner of his
watchful eyes. That was when he would feel the red-hot iron tear
through his body; a heartbeat later, the ground flying up to
greet him. It would be that quick. Maybe a moment to say good-
bye, to know she was safe and regret all that had been left
unsaid. The feel of her loosening his fingers to remove at the
last the weapon from his senseless hand.

     Blue eyes, pale face, leaning over him.

     Wait... His 'weapon'? Gun battles? Blue eyes filled with
tears... for him? And... a voice. Her voice?

     "Jake? You coming back to us, Jake?"

     Like a jar full of sand suddenly broken at the base, the
terrible tension flowed out of him.

     He was sprawled on his back, limp as a rag doll now, the
sense of being 'bottled' in far too small a space - gone. The
stabbing cramps in his arms and legs, however, seemed worse. Bit
by bit the darkness and the cold were receding as were the
strangling tightness in his chest and the fire in the marrow of
his bones. Even his frantic heartbeat had slowed if only a
little.

     "I thought we had lost you."

     Scully... Lucky Mulder to have her to wake up to.

     No, not Lucky Mulder. No, there was very little lucky about
that man. Cursed rather.

     Jake tried to rise, but her small, strong hand on his
forehead held him down.

     "No, stay where you are. Have you ever had an anxiety attack
before? Or asthma?"

     All Jake could manage was to allow his head to lull slowly
back and forth on the hard desk of the ship.

     Ship?

     Jerking upright despite her firm hand, he desperately sought
her wide eyes.

     "Anxiety, yes, but it wasn't mine. You don't want to know
whose."

     While she was taking this in, Jake staggered to his feet,
only managing to stay upright by clutching her slender, strong
shoulder. The sense of his torture was fading, becoming less and
less a part of his blood and bone. There remained, however, a
single thread of brightest gold that was attached to him still
and that stretched out, over and - finally in the far distance -
under the blue-gray sea.


     A half-hour later, Dana was pacing the deck. She was still
wearing her shorts and T-shirt from earlier in the day, but
strapped to her back was an air tank and dangling from one
shoulder the hose and mouthpiece. Her flippers and mask were
piled near the deck waiting for her. The team wore no wet suits
because the water was warm and shallow here close to this reef
that the little lighthouse guarded. They didn't expect to be down
very long either. From what Jake had felt, there was simply too
little time remaining for a lengthy search.

     Similarly attired, Jake was a lonely figure forty feet away
out on the bowsprit. The ship was silent except for the slap of
the waves against its hull as it plowed under full sail through
the waves.

     In the same bathing trunks and muscle shirt he had worn when
he had first greeted Mulder, Skinner came to his agent's side, a
sheen of perspiration on his face. "Anything?"

     "Nothing yet except for lot of hand signals to the
steersman." Both gazed towards the solitary figure going through
who knew what up at the bow alone.

     "Considering all you and Mulder have seen together, what do
you think?"

     "I know only what Jake has reported. He says that his attack
was Alex sending him a sign. That she joined he and Mulder the
same way that she had joined Mulder and I this morning. I know
what I felt then, sir. It _was_ Mulder."  Dana knew that she had
spoken too quickly, that her voice had been too strident, but she
had long past given up caring how professional she sounded or
acted.

     "If equally true of Mr. Simmons..." Skinner began.

     Dana stared out over the hundreds of miles of featureless
gray ocean. "Then Mulder is dying out there somewhere."

     As if to give comfort, Skinner moved closer but still did
not touch her. She had worn armor for every minute of three
months. It had cracked for a few hours, a day, but now it was
back again. "Though it's clearly not a simple matter, Jake
Simmons thinks he can find the place."

     "I know, and yet I can't help but ask: Are our hands so
empty that this is the only tool we have? Spiritualism?"

     "Would Agent Mulder put his trust in such methods to find
you? You know that he would."

     Skinner leaned his back against the rail and observed
Forsyth's men moving around the ship. Their eyes went often to
one or more of the machine guns that Elliot's men held at the
ready and in plain sight but their eyes also traveled elsewhere.
Restless. "There's definitely something here, Agent Scully.
There's no doubt in my mind that they had him. Ever since Simmons
began 'channeling' or whatever he's doing, they've been a twitchy
lot."

     "Seaman are traditionally superstitious."

     "In this case, how about just plain guilty."

     Elliot trotted up at that moment, face flushed with
excitement but hardly out of breath.

     No one our age, Skinner thought, has a right to look so
good.

     "We have something," the Thrall Master announced. "Or rather
Lisa does."

     Skinner's manner, which had been eager for news, cooled.
Legally, he didn't know where he stood at all in this case. To
allow one of the suspects, even an eager one, to be 'tortured' by
Lisa and her craft - well, maybe if it got results he wasn't
going a quibble. He had decided months before that Mulder's life
and Dana Scully's sanity were worth a reprimand - or a career. He
hadn't had to risk either until now. They had never been close
enough.

     "What does she have, Mr. Slater?"

     "A confession. Oh, purely voluntary" Elliot added hastily.
"As Jake has said: They did put Isaac - I mean, your Agent Mulder
- down into the sea in one of those barrels." He pointed to an
example sitting near the lifeboats. Dana's pale face went whiter
still. "They intended to come back for him after we left."

     Skinner let out a hiss. "But we didn't leave."

     "No. In his arrogance Forsyth miscalculated badly. He
thought he'd be able to wait us out. He knows that's not possible
now so is there's no way they're going back now whether we
pretend to leave or not. The lack of a body is one thing, to be
caught with a living or unliving one is quite another."

     A.D. Skinner didn't look in Agent Scully's direction. She
didn't need to have the situation sugar-coated for her. She had
thought the worst already about a hundred thousand times over the
last three months.

     "All the man knows is that they got it down there using a
weighted net. The net's also camouflaged so I hope Jacob's radar
has a fine tuning knob. If it doesn't, then we may be looking a
very long time."

     To Dana, Elliot added apologetically, "I've contacted
everyone I know but it will take time for the Mexican government
to get help out here. Longer for our government to get
authorization. There's a dispute over whose water's these are."

     "How was Forsyth planning to pinpoint Mulder's location?"
Skinner asked.

     "Our pigeon thinks that the barrel was marked with a narrow
band homing signal of some kind, probably scrambled. There must
be a receiver of some kind on board but he doesn't know where it
is and so far we haven't been able to find it."

     Skinner stiffened and set off with a purposeful stride.
Finally something he could do. "We'll tear the place apart."

     But Dana didn't follow immediately. She was loath to be out
of sight of Jake. What if he needed her? What if he felt
something?

     She looked over to where two of the Club's commandos stood
with air tanks and masks. They were ready to go down with she and
Jake as soon as he gave the word.

     If he gave the word.

     Although her body didn't react one bit to the security men,
Dana's mind labeled them gorgeous hunks and automatically added
'shallow and stupid'. Rapidly she revised that. In her mind,
Mulder had been one of those gorgeous hunks even before he had
been dropped like something newly born into the Club's machine to
be 'made over', and he was anything but shallow and stupid. Dana
reconsidered. Elliot vouched for their competence and they
certainly were taking this seriously. Marine recruiting poster
material - that's what they reminded her of. She'd ask one of
them to spot for Jake. The other she'd take with her to begin
looking for whatever device Forsyth had hidden which connected
him to Mulder.

     Before she could take more than two steps, however, a cry
went up into the air. Jake was shouting for the sails to be
dropped. In a second he swooped down on Dana and the two Club
marines, grabbing up his flippers and mask as he ran.

     "Jake, wait," Dana said softly helping him with the straps
of his tank.

     "Can't wait. This is the place. I'm certain it is and it's
been nearly four hours and who knows how much longer before we
showed up."

     She didn't like the look of his skin. There were blotches,
some pale, some flushed. He was breathing too fast again, too,
and sweating. "Jake, can you do this? You've never been diving
before."

     "I have to, don't I? He's here, Dana, I know he is. Trust
me."

     One of the Club marines was already in the water, holding
onto the ladder because the ship still had some forward motion as
the sails came down like great billowing clouds. Jake followed
without an instant's hesitation, awkwardly jumping in the last
few feet as he'd been instructed.

     'I have to trust this,' Dana repeated to herself as she
struggled to calm her own breathing. Skinner had returned and was
spraying her mask with defogger one last time before he fitted it
over her face.

     "If Jake's right," she told her boss at the top of the
ladder, "Mulder'll never stop gloating."

     "Can you live with that?" Skinner asked, from caution trying
to keep the optimism from creeping into his voice and failing.

     Yes, I can live with that, Dana told herself as the waves
closed over her head. The last thing she saw of the ship was
Skinner's familiar stern face high above her. The hands that
gripped the rail were so white with tension that she wondered if
he would crush it.

End of Chapter 21
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (22/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1
          &nbs p;          &nb sp; Chapter 22

     Jake hated the aqualung. He found it a great, noisy beast
that clung to his back and breathed hideously each time he did.
It encumbered his movements. He swam a great deal, as he was told
Mulder did, and always found it a quiet mystical time. Zen-like.
This was nothing like that. Worse, the distractions from the tank
and regulator meant he was having trouble sensing that golden
thread. It didn't help his concentration that Dana Scully was
swimming just off his left, relying on him to save Mulder's life
for her.

     Being a conduit for a ghost, when a man's life literally
hung upon that fragile connection, was the kind of responsibility
Jake had never asked for and didn't want.

     A hundred yards though the clear water, loomed a dark
mountain topped with the muted whites and yellows and greens of
the reef. Where they swam in the shadow of that mountain, the
water was only the palest gray. Here and there below them on the
barren floor of sand and rock were blacker pools, deeper pits.
One of those? If so, which one? There were so many. It was all
Jake could do not to panic. Mulder was close he knew and further
down, but in which direction?

     Where are you, Fox?  Alex, please. So give me a sign,
already. A school of fish, a broken stalk of kelp, a trail of
breadcrumbs. Anything!

     After long minutes of fruitless cris-crossing back and
forth, Jake finally stopped, closed his eyes and held his breath.
Now he could think. It wasn't as if sight was going to help them
much anyway if what the seaman who'd moaned imploringly to Lisa
at the height of his rapture knew what he was talking about.
Supposedly, they'd hidden their secret well. Eyes still closed,
Jake drifted to his right. He felt an unpleasant tickle in his
head. Reverse then. Better, but still an uneasiness under his
skin like ants. A little to his left? Maybe that. They swam for
about five minutes more, Jake with his eyes shut most of the time
to reduce distractions, the primary one being Dana Scully's
hopeful, hopeless eyes.

     Just when he had begun to despair, Jake sensed a change in
the temperature of the water itself. So did the others. It was
just a chill across their skin at first but as they approached,
it became a cold current as if the gates of Norse hell had
opened, spewing out upon the warm tropical sea its coldest
breath. Dana told Jake later that she saw him convulse then, and
that he actually lost his mouthpiece. He didn't remember any of
that until he felt the hard plastic thrust back into his mouth.

     And there was the Dana's face. Faceplate to faceplate they
could have said a few words but there was no need. His eyes were
narrowed and the set of his mouth told her all.

     He was all right now and he knew.

     Camouflage netting had been used to cover one of the pits.
First, they had to remove the large rocks that held it down. What
was left was that hell's mouth, with its cold spring rising. One
by one the team members dropped inside, floating down but not
without apprehension. There was not a photon of light in the
hole. Their small headlamps, intended for exploring around reefs,
illuminated only small cones of gray. The toys were totally
insufficient for the black cavern they found themselves entering.
It was impossible to estimate the size of the space, but
certainly it was far, far larger than the slit at its entrance.

     They searched for long minutes, bare skin slowly freezing.
Compared to the current that swirled warm and rich around the
reef, this place was a dead end full of dead water like the
airless cold inside a long-closed house. The four began taking
turns to retreat from time to time back into the open water
outside of the pit that was so much warmer. Dana tapped Jake on
the arm indicating that it was his turn. She didn't like the
stress lines she could see around his eyes and the darkening
around his lips. He had to get out of there at least for a few
minutes. Violently, Jake shook his head.

     They would have passed the place if Jake had not refused to
leave. He had been searching around a shelf of rock that jutted
part way out into the main cavern. When he reached behind and up
into what had looked like just another black cavity, he had felt
the unnaturally smooth curve of plastic even through the numb
skin of his hands. Like their informant had said it was one of
the damn blue barrels from the ship though it appeared only
faintly gray here. A sense of triumph filled his mind but still
that terrible urgency. Too much time had passed. Dana knew he had
found something without even needing to look at his face. She
could tell by the frantic, excited way his body moved as he swam
to reach her. As Jake helped the two security men to secure the
barrel with tethers so that it would not rise to the surface too
quickly, Dana just hovered, her hands running carefully, almost
lovingly, over its surface.

     The barrel only barely slid through the crack in what was
now the pit's ceiling. After that they were quickly back in the
tropical current. Especially for Jake who of the four swimmers
had been in the pit the longest without a break, the affect was
like being immersed in a hot bath. The four members of the rescue
team each held what was roughly a corner of the barrel, kicking
upwards as quickly as they dared and not jostle the barrel's
precious contents. By the time Jake raised his head into the pure
air and bright sun, he could actually feel his fingers and toes
again, not that that was important at the moment.

     They tred water as they waited for Forsyth's yacht. The
schooner had drifted with its sea anchor while they were down.
Facemasks raised onto the back of their heads, Dana caught Jake's
eye. Her hand still rested on the barrel as it had since they'd
found it though they were all trying to keep it from rolling in
the waves.

     "I don't know," his expression said, answering her unasked
question. "I just don't know."

     She hadn't asked in words and Jake hadn't needed any to
reply. They both knew what the other meant. It was obvious that
Jake no longer felt that silver connecting thread. What he didn't
want to reveal was that he longer felt anything at all that might
be from Mulder - not the cold nor the dark nor the strangling
tightness in his chest.

     The ship arrived. Skinner had the cargo arm and its net
ready. When Dana road along with their catch, no one dared
suggest that it might not be safe. On board, two of Elliot's
marines were ready with a variety of tools. Another stood by with
every medical supply they could find.

     The barrel came to rest on the deck on its side, which was
the attitude they had found it in and which they had maintained
unchanged as much as possible throughout the recovery. Thirty
seconds later the lid was off. Two everyone' relief less than two
liters of water trickled out. Elbowed to the rear of the crowd of
onlookers, Jake felt oddly helpless as Doctor/Agent Scully and AD
Skinner took charge. 'Wait,' he wanted to protest. 'Where were
you all those months he lay helpless in the caverns? Who found
that ampule in his leg and removed it? Who was there when he
finally woke so sick and confused?'

     The scent that rolled out of the cask in advance of the limp
seal-like body with its gray face, reminded Jack of that time -
sweat, vomit, that ammonia-urine smell. It occurred to Jake that
you don't get that kind of intimate earthy experience from
television or the movies. Mulder still wore his oxygen mask. Dark
lines remained imbedded on his skin when they took it off.

     Those lines should have been pink or angry red. They were a
kind of bluish purple as were his lips and the bruises around his
eyes. Even while her expert small hands sought for a pulse and
took a temperature, Dana was calling for oxygen and for help in
removing the damn wet suit.

     In the end they placed him on a blanket and slit the suit.
Mulder was naked as he lay on the deck, the warm sun on his blue
skin. Considering his own state of undress the last few months,
this shouldn't have bothered Jake but it did - profoundly. He
wanted to cover his friend, to hide him from prying eyes.

     "Someone bring more damn blankets!" he shouted. Dana took a
millisecond to send her thanks with her eyes.

     "What can I do?" Skinner asked. Silently, Jake was asking
the same thing.

     Dana continued working frantically. "I have a pulse but it's
faint. He's hypoxic and he's hypothermic. I'm giving him oxygen,
but we need to get him warm as soon as possible." For the first
time she looked up, purposely scanning the small knot of men
around her. Her eyes fixed first on Skinner but he was already
distracted and very shortly was striding off obviously on some
mission of his own.

     "Jake," she called. "You're not doing anything. Come over
here and be useful."

     Jake started and came forward readily enough but clueless
about how he could be 'useful'.

     "It's bundling time," she said with a emotionless
practicality. "Hard to imagine in the subtropics, but it was
freezing in that pit and Mulder's system can't regulate its own
temperature right now so he needs help." She was shaking out the
folds of a dark blanket. Impatiently, she looked up into Jake's
confused face. "I mean get down here and snuggle. I'll cover you.
In a few minutes we'll transfer you both to the powerboat which
will get you to the clinic on the island faster that this ship
can but this will have to do for now.

     Jake wasn't moving. "No. Dana, that's your place."

     She had been all professional intensity since they had
pulled her more-dead-than-alive partner from his prison - or had
Forsyth always intended for it to be Mulder's coffin? At Jake's
consternation and his offer, her stern mask shifted and all too
clearly he saw the misery underneath.

     "You know I want to, but I need to be able to move and act
if Mulder needs additional medical attention."

     At that moment a frantic Forsyth came striding up, Skinner
at his heels trying to slow the millionaire. Clearly, Forsyth's
indignant arrival was what had distracted him before.

     "Attempted murder!" Forsyth was protesting at the top of his
lungs. "Nonsense. The plan all along was to return and pick Fox
up safe and -"

     He never got the rest out for he was suddenly face to face
with the results of his 'safe' storage of Fox Mulder. Forsyth was
shocked and it was hard to fake that kind of pallor.

     "What's wrong with him?" he demanded staring at Dana. He
clearly knew who and what she was despite her shorts and camisole
top.

     Like a very angry lioness, Dana stood up, bristling.
"Attempted murder of a federal officer is too easy a charge by
half for what you tried to do," she hissed. "Whoever you had put
him down there chose one of the sink holes where the water was at
least twenty degrees colder than anywhere else around the reef.
There wasn't nearly enough air in that bottle you gave him,
either. Another few minutes and we wouldn't be talking
'attempted'. By slowing his metabolism, the hypothermia was all
that saved him." Like one other time, Dana thought silently.

     Jake felt relieved that he wasn't on the receiving end of
the look she gave Forsyth but then it did swing his way. 'Get
moving,' it seemed to say.

     With some hesitation Jake knelt on the pallet beside Mulder
and then laid down beside him, skin only barely touching skin.
Despite the sun, the man was so cold. Feeling ashamed under all
those eyes as he never had before, Jake found he had to wait
until Dana had covered them both with the blanket before he could
put his arms around that chilled flesh. Like a turtle he even
tucked his head down under the blanket up to the level of his
ears. Jake told himself that it didn't matter, getting Mulder
warm was what was important, but it was embarrassing, right out
on the deck the way they were. It was surreal, too, to hear the
conversation and accusations flying around above them.

     "Keith! Damn you!" Forsyth was shouting. A perfectly tanned
blond man appeared from around the main sail. Actually he was
pushed forward by one of Forsyth's largest crewman. Keith had a
boyish mop of hair, muscle shirt, and a prettily handsome but
frowning face. He was also at least a two decades older than he
obviously tried to appear. 'Gay' Jake knew, straight down the
middle. At the Club, sex was sex and 'Bi' was the generally
accepted sexual orientation, but Keith was gay, an aging, pouting
Boy afraid of losing his Man.

     "How did this happen?" Forsyth demanded, pointing down at
the still, blue, oxygen-masked face of Mulder and glaring
furiously. "They say he didn't have enough air. I left those
details to you!"

     "An accident, an oversight," was the excuse Keith gave and
he certainly didn't seem the least apologetic.

     "And what about where they found him? Some sinkhole? Well,
it was obviously too damn cold. Those were not my instructions."

     A shrug. "It was a good hiding place."

     Forsyth was clearly astounded. "Keith, damn you, why?"

     When the aging blond man made no attempt to answer, the
large crewman who'd brought him forward hit him sharply between
the shoulder blades.

     "We know, Mr. Forsyth. We all know. Mr. Keith was afraid of
being supplanted. In your affections, sir," the man added as if
looking at his employer's face he had thought that the
millionaire was too dim to quite caught the reference.

     But he had. Like a panther preparing to strike, Forsyth
crouched ever so slightly, but what he was doing was reaching
under his loose linen pants at the ankle. It was a very tiny gun
but it was capable of making a very deadly hole in the middle of
Keith's forehead before Skinner wrestle the weapon away.

     Jake shuddered, shouldered the blanket up to cover more of
their faces and huddled more closely to Mulder's comatose body.
Maybe he wasn't so far removed from the violence of the sex and
the drug scene on the mainland as he had thought.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     Unexplainably weak, Dana sagged against the outer wall of
the schooner's central cabin and watched Skinner lead a loudly
remonstrating Forsyth away. She had already pronounced Keith one
very dead and jealous companion. One of Elliot's men covered the
body. There were now two blanket-draped bundles at her feet,
Keith and the wider one of Mulder and Jake.

     Mulder... She let her arms hang at her sides because she
didn't dare raise them. She knew she'd see her hands shaking if
she did. There was just too much happening here. They had fucked
up. Due to lack of manpower, they had given Elliot's men most of
the responsibility for searching Forsyth and his people and look
what had happened. An incredibly unnecessary death. And it wasn't
only a man's death. Disgruntled employees make the best witnesses
for the prosecution and Dana had wanted _so_ much to see Forsyth
put away - far, far away into a deep hole as cold and black and
airless as the one they had thrust Mulder in.

     Mulder... That was the real reason she dare not look at her
hands. She had touched him - for what? A total of five minutes
after three months, nearly four? Cold, nearly unyielding flesh.
She wanted her hands on him again but she didn't know if she
would be able to leave him again if she did. One of the hardest
things she had ever done was to order the disturbingly changed
Jake Simmons to be where she wished she were. She couldn't even
be with him now because clearly the ship hadn't been secured
properly. Instead, Elliot and Lisa were crouched beside Jake and
Mulder. The Lisa and Jake were talking softly and with some
intensity. Elliot had his cell phone out. He was probably making
arrangements for their arrival back on the island.

     At that moment Dana caught a meaningful glance from Jake. It
gave her all the excuse she needed and in five steps she was at
Mulder's side again. Elliot and Lisa scattered like birds as she
descended. Mulder was moving, not much but enough to raise her
hopes. A quick exam raised them even further even though he was
still far from conscious. Would she be able to talk to him soon,
look him in the eyes and let him know she was there? Would he
even understand her? Would he ever? After months of drugs,
interrogation, and the pleasure of Forsyth's company, Mulder had
thought himself free. He had even been playing chess with A.D.
Skinner - you can't be in safer company than that - when he had
been taken again and tortured. Now lack of oxygen, the solitude -
would she even know the man who emerged from all this?

     Jake, his skin flushed from his time under the wool blanket
and the tropical sun, had risen to join Lisa at the rail. Their
attention was pointedly fixed on Elliot who was still talking on
his cell phone so for the first time the partners were nearly
alone. Dana was gently finger-combing Mulder's hair, enjoying its
new longer length, when she heard her name called. Abruptly,
almost guiltily, she stood to see Skinner walking briskly towards
her. He was just placing his cell phone into his pocket. She
thought nothing about it at the time because Skinner was
negotiating with at least three countries and Interpol. Following
him were two of Elliot's men carrying the familiar man-sized
shape of the Stokes, the nearly universally accepted transfer
litter used by search and rescue teams.

     "They're ready to load the boat and start back to the
island," Skinner announced. "What is Agent Mulder's condition."

     Dana's eyes drifted to the blanketed bundle and the group of
three who had returned to cluster around him. "Far better that I
would have expected at this time. His temperature is low but no
longer critically so, his color is much improved, his pulse is
stronger, nearly normal."

     "Then he'll live."

     "He will unless the trauma caused damage I can't detect - a
weakening of the heart, damage to the kidneys," she paused, "and
then I have to see how lucid he is when he wakes up." Dana had
not said "if" as she might have. Brain damage... madness... She
had no way of knowing.

     Returning to a more optimistic vein for Skinner's sake, she
continued, "That's why I want to have him checked over at
island's clinic as soon as possible. I don't have the proper
equipment here and Mr. And Mrs. Slater assure me that their
medical facilities are first rate."

     Dana made a move in the direction of where they were loading
Mulder's limp body into the long basket-like Stokes but Skinner
stopped her with a touch.

     "Agent Scully, we haven't discussed this, but we need to.
From your report I take it that Agent Mulder is no longer in
critical condition and the trip to the island will take them less
than thirty minutes. The paramedics will be waiting. I know that
you planned to accompany him but you and I are the only
legitimate law enforcement personnel on the scene and we already
have problems with jurisdiction. We've also just been provided
with a tragic demonstration of why we can't just turn over
significant segments of this investigation to Elliot's staff. I
know that Elliot's people didn't intentionally overlook Forsyth's
deadly little toy but because of their other Club
'responsibilities' they are entirely too deferential when it
comes to Forsyth and his 'client' status."

     He saw the light dim in her eyes. "What would you like me to
see to first, Sir?" she asked. By the tone of her voice one would
have that that this was just a case, nothing special.

     Skinner was never as proud of this diminutive agent then at
that moment. After three months she had been given less than ten
minutes with her beloved partner and now he was ripping them
apart again. If the situation had been different, he would have
just said 'Screw the legal precedents!' and let her be the only
place where he heart wanted to be at that moment. He honestly
needed this agent's help, however, and then there was the
disturbing complication Elliot had just phoned him about. That
Scully bit her lip nearly hard enough to draw blood to keep from
screaming out exactly what she thought of his order, showed the
depth of her respect for the Bureau and her duty and for him. He
hoped that when this was over, she still held him in such high
regard.

     "May I see him off, sir?" she asked, in a tone with as much
misery as bitterness.

     "Briefly." He had to allow her that at least. "But we have
to search the cabins where we want to hold the prisoners again.
We can't afford any more surprises."

     With a curt nod and unreadable eyes, she turned on her heel
and went to join the group rigging the Stokes up to the cargo
hoist. Jake stood protectively at Mulder's side with Elliot
nearly. Lisa was already in the impressively fast speedboat ready
to receive.

     "Dana..." Jake began, obviously uncomfortable. His sidelong
glance to Elliot was worried.

     She waved down his concern, her attention was all for Mulder
who was moving slightly again. "As you can guess from that last
little exchange with Forsyth, I'm needed here, so I'm leaving
Mulder in your care... and if he dies, so help me God, so will
you. Only very slowly." Jake had no doubt that Dana Scully meant
every word. If she was angry with you, her glance alone could do
serious damage. "He means everything to me, do I make myself
clear?" But her eye weren't on Jake. They were all for Mulder.
She took his pulse and placed the back of her hand against a no
longer pale cheek.

     "Jake, you must be a furnace. He's warm. Almost too warm."

     Jake shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "It's the sun," he
explained. "And it was hot under that blanket."

     But Dana was not really listening except to Mulder whom she
was leaning over. "Mulder, it's Scully. Jake is going to go with
you back to the island now, to the clinic. Skinner and I have
work to do here but I'll be along soon. No one will hurt you. Do
you understand me?" No response, at least none to anything she
seemed to be saying. "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

     Jake stared and he actually saw the long hand that lay
outside the cover move. Whether Mulder had actually heard and
understood, didn't matter. Now she was trying to look into his
eyes though to do that she would have to remove the edge of the
blanket Jake was using to cover Mulder's face.

     "I think the sun hurts his eyes," Jacob explained, managing
to keep those eyes in pretty deep shadow.

     Dana turned to find the sun. The man was right. Lying on
your back you do end up staring into the sun. The person looking
down usually failed to overlook that simple fact. "Thank you,
Jake, that's observant of you." At that point Dana had only
enough time left to stand back and allow the stokes to rise in
its sling.

     Jake and Elliot watched her go and then moved towards the
ladder that ran down the side of the schooner to where the
smaller boat rocked.

     "Did she see anything?" Elliot asked, barely loud enough to
be heard above the gentle slap of the low waves against the hull.

     "She wouldn't have left if she had. No, he didn't open his
eyes while she was there. How did Skinner take the news, by the
way?"

     Elliot remembered that first call only a few minutes before.
The man had been standing in full view by the helm only fifty
feet away and so Elliot had actually been able to watch the
assistant director's frown deepening at Elliot's every word.
"Let's just say that Forsyth should consider himself fortunate
that Skinner's self control is iron-clad, otherwise Mr. Money
would be twenty feet down right now with an anchor chain wrapped
around his scrawny neck. Not that the SOB doesn't deserve it.
What he did to Mulder even if everything had gone as he had
originally planned, even Lisa at her worst wouldn't have
sanctioned." Elliot paused, glancing over at Jake's drawn face.
"But then you know something of what it was like for him."

     Remembering the 'vision' Alex had given him, Jake shuddered.
Strangling and freezing and burning all at once. Yes, he knew. It
just hadn't made sense before.

     Both men had to brace themselves then as Lisa started the
motor with a roar. Tossing off the lines, the powerboat began to
move. It was smoother than Lisa's normal getaway Elliot noted
though they were soon roaring over the sea. Lisa loved her boats
the way Elliot did any kind of car.

     Exchanging a knowing smile with this magnificent creature
who had agreed to marry him, Elliot followed Jake aft to where
Mulder still lay in his cradle. Safer just to leave him lying
secure in the Stokes's cradling arms. He was moving even more now
than when Dana had seen him last. His hands clasped and unclasped
around the blanket. His legs had begun to move restlessly in the
little space he had and his head tossed from side to side as if
he had a fever. He did have a fever of a kind.

     "He's recovering quickly," Jake observed, sadly. "We don't
have much time." Looking up, he stared off towards the white and
green jewel that had already appeared far out on the horizon. At
the speed Lisa was pushing the engines, Jake had probably over-
estimated the duration of their trip. "Where are we going by the
way?"

     "The docks at the Caverns, it's the closest landing. The
medical unit is waiting for us there."

     "The Caverns..." Jake mused, then raised to voice in order
to be heard over the straining engine.  "Do we still have access
to Forsyth's suite?"

     Elliot's expression showed that his own thoughts had already
covered this ground. "Yes, we do. Forsyth prepaid for six months
and he's not getting a refund."

     "That's good," Jake said. "Mulder's going to need some
privacy for the next twenty-four hours or so."

     "Then you agree no medical center? I will have the medics
give him the once over when we get to the dock though."

     Jake stared over the stern back to where the white sails of
the schooner were growing rapidly smaller. The wind from behind
whipped tendrils of hair against his face. "That should be
sufficient assuming they don't find anything we're not already
aware of. Dr. Scully only wanted Mulder checked over as
precaution anyway. What we have now is far more dangerous and
he's going to need watching."

     "It will be easier in an environment we can control," Elliot
agreed looking down into the cradle, all too aware that this was
no child.

      Jake's gaze followed the older man's. "We'd better let
Skinner know."

     Elliot looked up at his friend and gave him an odd half-
smile. "Who do you think made the suggestion in the first place?
Besides, it's not Skinner I'm worried about. What's going to
happen when _she_ finds out?"

     Jake lifted the edge of the blanket that was once again
covering Mulder's eyes. Mulder looked so much better, skin nearly
its deep bronze tan again, so many of the gaunt lines from the
shock had smoothed away. If he had been able to lie quiet, his
expression would have been almost serene. As if aware he was
being observed, the lids over Mulder's eyes opened slowly, not
far, but far enough to once again reveal their golden gleam.

End of Chapter 22
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (23/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1
          &nbs p;          &nb sp; Chapter 23

     Suite Seven was a somber place. It was as quiet as a
hospital, which was what it was in a lot of ways. Actually, detox
center would have described it better. Cold turkey all the way.

     Elliot, Lisa and Jake had set Mulder up in the master
bedroom. From what Mulder had described to Jake, the great room
clearly held too many wicked memories. Before Mulder began to
truly emerge from his stupor, they managed to wash away the worst
of the sweat and get the liter of fluid into him by way of the IV
that the medic had started.

     Once in the master suite with the heavy drapes closed, the
three friends compared notes. Solemnly, Lisa and Elliot informed
Jake that they had never seen eyes affected by Aswan Gold more
than these were. Glow in the dark eyes. Drugged to the gills,
poor sot. Mulder, however, was more than some druggie to Jake and
so more than that to Lisa and Elliot.

     It was Jake who went to Mulder first when it became clear
just how quickly the man was being overwhelmed by the Gold's
cravings. He held and reassured the familiar, feverish body the
way he could no longer reassure the poor confused mind. Of
course, things developed quickly into more than comfort given and
received. Jake was just relieved that the first assault had time
to pass and that he, Jake, had time to extract himself from those
strong arms before Dana Scully - outraged partner, physician and
sometimes lover - appeared on the scene.

     Afterwards, with Mulder relegated to Lisa's surprisingly
maternal care, Jake sought the big chair in a quiet corner of the
huge master bedroom. Awash in his own afterglow, the smooth
damask covering was cool against his overheated skin. He was
drifting on his own golden ocean when he became aware that he may
not be entirely alone and a surge of welcome fountained up from
the innermost part of him.

     'I hope you didn't mind my staying around this last time?'
The whisper was like the slightest of breezes in his ear. How odd
that she had found her voice after all these years.

     'Mulder's in no shape to complain and besides he owes you.
We all do. We never would have found him in time without you, if
ever.'

     Silence. Alex? Reticent?

     'Owe me? You don't owe me anything, Jake. You didn't ask to
be pulled through hell with me.'

     Jake leaned back in the big chair drowsily, wondering how
much of this conversation was real. Did it matter? What did he
really want? Alex back or to put all his ghosts to rest?

     'Why are you here, Alex? I thought you were moving on.'

     'You gave me a mission and so did she.'

     'And you more than fulfilled it. You led us to Mulder more
than once.' He didn't comment about her methods, which had been
uncomfortable for both he and Dana, but he couldn't complain
about the results.

      She breathed wistfully into his ear so softly that only a
few tousled hairs moved. 'Maybe for once in my life I wanted to
see one thing through to the end. It's something I need practice
at, I hear.'

     'Now you're being modest. You have my thanks - and his - and
hers.'

     The puff of invisible air on his face was like that that
from a small laugh. 'It was something I _could_ do. When I still
lived I was never good about thinking of others. That's obvious.
Maybe if I learn, they'll let me come back and try again.'

     Half-asleep and wondering if he was dreaming, Jake smiled to
himself. 'Do they do that?'

     'I think anything is possible, if you are strong enough, if
you are worthy. I want to be worthy, I have a lot to make up for
- mostly what I did to you, Jake, both while I was alive -and
after.' A pause. A very long pause. Jake felt the contentment
draining out of him at the thought that she had left. He was just
resigning himself to the emptiness when her presence returned
with a vengeance.

     '_She's_ coming!' The sudden surge of indescribable emotion
nearly drove Jake from his chair. 'She's at the door and she's
mad as hell.' In that instant Jake felt this wild, flighty joy.
This was Alex as she had been living - during her upswings at
least - deliriously amused with the world.

     Jake groaned and tensed himself for the onslaught. 'I
suppose that just when I could use a nice supernatural
distraction, you're going to leave?'

     Her presence did seem to be drifting again. 'Charm her. You
charmed me long ago while I still lived and before I made the
mistake of not trusting the wonderful thing I had found in you.
You haven't lost your touch; you charm me still. Now my guides
are here and they are stern. I'm still attracted far too much to
you and to this world. I think they're afraid that I'll go back
on the plan.' Her voice strengthened again, just for a moment.
'And I would. You have only to say the word -'

     For a moment, just for a moment, he was sorely tempted to
cry 'Stay!' He didn't. That time had passed. 'No, love, it's time
for us both to move on. Past time. We've been stuck in neutral.
That's fine for healing but it's no place for anyone to be for
long.'

     'Then now...now is the time.' Her voice grew fainter still,
gentler like a little child. 'I wonder... Maybe I won't be
beautiful next time. Maybe I'll just be ordinary. Maybe even
ugly.'

     'No, you won't and even if you are, you'll always be young
and beautiful to me even when I am old and women don't turn when
I pass any longer.'

     'Or the men,' came that silent laugh again. Lips seemed to
brush his brow, a breeze rustled his hair again where there was
no breeze, and then.... cool finger ran down his chest all the
way to his cock, arousing him like old times.

     One last time.

     A trembling in the air. Only that. 'You'll never grow old
for me either... you'll always be... Jake.'

     Even fainter. 'Find love... my love.'

     And then she was gone.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     Jake barely had time to inhale one bittersweet breath before
the tornado arrived.

     Dana Scully erupted into the suite. Even three rooms away
and with the excellent sound proofing the Club was famous for,
her arrival was obvious to everyone who had taken up residence in
the master bedroom - everyone, that is, with the exception of
Mulder. Mulder's Gold-driven hormones had been already on the
upswing when Jake still lounged lethargic from their last very
close encounter. At least he had been lethargic until Alex had
said her good-byes.

     Snatching at a robe, Jake moved quickly to glide out the
door of the Master bedroom before Dana found them and got an
eyeful of Mulder's single-minded infatuation with the curves of
Lisa's bare shoulders and back.

     He made it to the door of the kitchen before Dana had
crossed the length of the great room. At the sight of him, she
nearly tripped over the step up from the sunken 'conversation'
pit. Skinner, who was nearly running at her heels, caught her
physically even as she caught herself mentally. Jake could almost
see that fleet mind churning as she once again took in the sight
of him from long bare feet to the unruly mop of brown hair on the
top of his head. It had only taken seconds for her to know whom
she was facing even with the robe that hid the scar patterns, but
the recognition had had to be a painfully conscious effort. How
Jake hated the effect his appearance had on this long-suffering
woman.

     "Where he is!" she demanded in a voice nearly shrill with
hysteria. "Why didn't you take him to the med center? I trusted
you!"

     "He's here, he's safe, and we did have the EMT's check him
over. He's as well as he can be... under the circumstances."

     Her eyes had raced over the huge central room in two
seconds. Luckily, he was standing in the doorway to the hall
leading in the suite's east wing or she would have pushed past
him.

     "Don't go..." he told her as gently as he could, his hand
coming up to cover hers. Dana stared from his hand to his face as
if startled to find that his touch and the expression on that
familiar face no longer produced the heat it once had. Jake no
longer 'felt' like Mulder to her.

     "What do you mean, 'don't go'?" she asked, astonished. "How
can you say that?"

     Jake appealed to Skinner.

     "She already knows what the bastards did," Skinner
explained. "When she found he wasn't at the med center I had to
tell her. She guessed you'd come here. I didn't tell her, but I
would have. You have to let her see him."

     Jake looked down at the exhausted woman by his side who was
still prepared to stiff-arm him out of the way the moment he
moved an inch. Hell, considering her training, she could do him
serious damage whether he moved or not. There was pleading in
those blue eyes, which under normal circumstances she would never
have shown the world. How alike the two partners were. Would they
ever be able to both lower their impressive defenses at the same
time and actually get somewhere in their relationship?

     "Dana, please. He wouldn't want you to see him this way."

     "I know. But I've seen him just about every other way. This
can't be worse."

     Want to bet? Jake thought. Having elicited a reluctant
agreement to give him time to prepare the 'patient', Jake slid
back to the room to see how bad it was going to be. Within thirty
seconds with Lisa and Elliot's help, Jake was able to prop Mulder
up with pillows at his back against the headboard of the king-
sized bed. From the chest down they covered him with the
bedspread. Lisa and Elliot were stationed on either side. Both
were at least minimally clothed, from the waist up at least, and
both were ready to act if Mulder should go feral during the
visit.

     A brief visit, Jake prayed.

     Dana had calmed considerably by the time Jake motioned for
her to enter. As much as he knew of this woman, her ability to
project such calm under the current conditions was nearly
miraculous.

     She nearly crept to the bedside, coming to sit at her
partner's side so lightly that she hardly made a dent on the
mattress. Mulder had been lying back against the pillows, looking
away from the doorway and towards the light streaming in from the
tall, elegant windows. Without alarm, he turned his head towards
her. The smile resembled more than anything a drunken leer but at
least there was some recognition. Jake privately concluded that
Mulder would have smiled at Sadam Hussein at that moment as long
as the leader was in possession of a warm, functioning body.

      As if afraid to disturb some tenuous balance, Dana slowly
stretched out her hand to smooth the tousled hair from his
forehead. Like a great collie dog, he moved his head against her
hand.

     "What tangle have you gotten yourself in this time, Mulder?"
From her tone she didn't expect a response.

     Dana Scully was one bright woman. She saw no one she knew in
that flushed, sweat-streaked face, those sex-swollen lips or
golden eyes that glowed so brightly that there was hardly a pupil
to be seen. So beautiful, so desirable, but not her Mulder. With
an almost physical effort she pulled her own eyes away from the
satyr's face and went into doctor-mode. Pulse, temperature...
Thank Bacchus, Mulder responded very little, his attention being
distracted elsewhere. Jake guessed that it had something to do
with what Lisa's hand was doing under the blanket to keep him
calm.

     Dana probably could too.

     "See, a bit wired but all in one piece," Jake said, trying
to be reassuring. "Unless the doctors have an antidote for what
Forsyth gave him - which they don't - a hospital isn't what he
needs now." Jake had crouched down beside the bed and the
silently distressed woman who was only able to hold herself
together by going through the familiar mantra of her profession.
"He needs time and he needs people to help him through this and
keep him safe but that doesn't have to be you. In fact, there are
a lot of good reasons for it _not_ to be you, not right now. "

     "No." The sound came out in a dreadful whisper. "There is
another way. I can keep him sedated till it passes."

     "In his current state? Do you know what mixing drugs like
that will do? I've seen some bad ju-ju. Aswan Gold doesn't
exactly come with warnings issued by the FDA. Do you really want
to see him strapped down in five point restraints in a psyche
ward for the next twenty hours and let him suffer in torment
alone in his head? Or are you the straight jacket and a padded
room kind? I'm sure the island has one of those. An interesting
fantasy."

     "Stop it," Dana growled low in her throat.

     "I'm not an expert, I don't think anyone is, but my
suggestion is to let him burn the poison out of his system in its
own way."

     "No!"

     "Why? Do you think we get some thrill over seeing him like
this? We," by this Jake meant he and Elliot and Lisa, "care about
Mulder. The island bans shit like this for a reason. You can't
probe your humanity at the bottom of this glass. There's no
physical, intellectual or psychological challenge. All of us here
are well aware that sex is mainly a head game, but on this stuff
Mulder's not going to be delving into his soul looking for
insight into the universe." Gently, Jake touched the dark head
and delicious shiver went through the long, slightly feverish
body. The eyes which had closed, contented, like some great cat
being petted, opened and there was indeed nothing human in there.
"He's all animal, Dana. On and off over the next day or so,
depending on how quickly his batteries recharge, he'll be not
much more than a rutting stag, a wolf smelling the perfume of a
dozen bitches in heat. Let his body do what it needs to."

     Dana's head was shaking slowly from side to side. Her lips
moved but no sound came out. She tried again. "This can't be
right... I should be the one." Her disappointment and exhaustion
touched Jake so deeply that he nearly went back on his resolve.

     But, no...

     "What would he want? There's nothing to be gained from your
having those kinds of memories to carry around for the rest of
your life. You know him better than anyone. If you have a better
suggestion, I'd like to hear it."

     Dana shuddered and with one hand rubbed aching eyes. "How
will this be any different than what Forsyth did to him all those
months?"

     "There is no comparison. We care for Mulder and that goes a
long way. Also, this is only one dose though a pretty massive one
from what we convinced Forsyth's witch doctor to tell us, the
bastard. When Mulder was here before, they would shoot him up
four, five times over a weekend. He must have been a raving
maniac most of the time. No wonder he collapsed for forty-eight
hours after and with the other drugs in his system he never came
back to himself."

     Dana stared up into Skinner's eyes for help. He had followed
her in and stood alert and watching just inside the door. She
found comfort in his strength but no real help, no condemnation
for Jake's plan, either. And Skinner was a healthy male.
Certainly he knew more than Dana could what torture Mulder would
suffer if she followed her purely medical instincts.

     Medical or personal?

     Just then Mulder ached upward in a long, languorous stretch.
His face had this look to it that screamed trouble to Jake, Lisa
and Elliot others - and soon. Luckily, Dana was so shocked by the
transformation that she allowed Jake lead from the room with
minimal resistance. He sat her down at a small table in the
kitchen - a nice, non-threatening, domestic atmosphere. Her face
was deathly pale.

     "Stay with me here, Dana. Eight months ago when we first met
in D.C. I got the very distinct impression that you and Mulder
were very special to each other. Something, complex but
wonderful. Something that would last. Am I right?"

     Dana blushed. It should have been impossible under the
circumstances, but she did.

     "You know that that's not Mulder in there. Not the one you
know. His tastes will be quite indiscriminate I can assure you.
In the years to come, how will he feel knowing you've been
witness to this? Am I making sense?"

     He was. In a crazy way he was and was trying so hard for
both her and Mulder. It was almost sweet. "It's not like we've
never...."

     Eyebrows rose above Jake's hazel-green eyes? "Oh, dear, then
things _have_ changed in the universe in the last eight months?"

     Dana blushed again. "Just twice," she protested, though she
couldn't comprehend what she had to apologize about. "Once after
Antarctica. That was a disaster -"

     "Antarctica or your first time?" Jack asked, with a crooked
wry smile that was too achingly like Mulder's.

      "Both actually. We don't count that time. Neither of us was
at our best. We just had some unfinished business we had to
attend to. The other time was after we heard they had reinstated
the X-Files. Neither of us were quite sober either as I remember.
Now they are reconsidering again, but that's another story."

     "The important part is that you've never really had a
_first_ time. Not a planned, romantic evening. You don't need
this then, Dana. He doesn't need to know you've been part of
this."

     "Then who - ?"

     "Elliot and Lisa and I."

     "Three of you!"

     "We've just gotten started here and from what I've heard
about this stuff and his reaction to it, we'll be lucky if we're
enough even though Lisa and Elliot are professionals."

     If he were willing to admit it, so was Jake since Alex had
transformed him over the past months.

     Dana was staring off into space. Her unhappiness was so
acute that Jake didn't know what to do or say.

     "Did he get anything to eat?" she asked as if not knowing
where else to begin.

     "Of course, a couple of those vitamin and mineral health
drinks and a couple of power bars. Ah, we washed him up, too. He
rather needed that."

     She almost smiled. "Thank you. Yes, he did."

     Jake didn't describe, however, that Mulder had come out of
the physical shock of being nearly asphyxiated and definitely
hypothermic only very slowly. That as his body recovered it had
alternately curled and convulsed around his own aroused center,
sweat streaming from his body. Or that he had thrashed about
widely golden-eyed and clawed at the sheets, his body and
instincts not in sync enough for him to realize what the drug was
requiring him to do. That had been a painful few hours for all.
He had clung to Jake's hand while Lisa and Elliot had washed him
in a way that had sent Jake's own blood pressure soaring.

     "Jake, I understand that you're just trying to be kind but I
just can't abandon him."

     "I'm not asking you to. Just leave him to us for now. We'll
give him all the 'exercise' he needs and try to burn some of the
madness out of his system. When he comes back to himself, when he
can hold onto some sense of self for more than a few minutes,
that's when he'll need you. That's the really bad time - when he
is beginning to understand what is happening to him and yet he
still loses control. Believe me, you'll have plenty of
opportunity for 'quality time'. He'll waver back and forth for
hours after that. That's when he'll want you and only you."

     Dana's face lit up like a Christmas tree, a rather sad,
drooping Christmas tree, but far brighter than she had looked all
day.

     "I've explained this all backwards, haven't I?" Jake moaned.
"The intention was never to keep you two apart but first of all
to ensure his health and then protect his privacy. It was too
much to explain to you about the 'Gold' on the boat. Skinner
needed you. It just wasn't the time or the place for long
explanations."

     "Not to mention that I would have murdered Forsyth and his
Dr. Mengela on the spot."

     "There is that."

     Her eyes strayed in the direction of the master bedroom.
"How long do you think it will be before he starts to come out of
it?" she asked, anxious and eager at the same time."

     Helplessly, Jake shrugged. "Depends on the size of the dose
he got for one, which was extreme or so we've been told. Then his
metabolism was pretty non-existent for a while, so a good chunk
of the time that already passed probably doesn't count. There's
also his sensitivity to the stuff. As I've said, from what I'm
told he's very sensitive. I'm sorry, Dana, my guess is eighteen
to twenty-four hours."

     Blue eyes closed as if that helped keep the shaky armor
intact. She sighed. "You seem to know a lot about this drug. I've
only heard rumors about it."

     Jake's voice was not steady. "It was tried on me once -
against my will. Not here," he added quickly, "but before, when a
certain someone drove me out into some shady parts of the
underworld. Believe me, you do not want to know any more about
that. Let's just say that I was out of my head most of the time
and at the end I wished that I still was. My mind came back
before my body. Talk about your uncontrollable urges." Jake's
face, however, did not match words. There was no making light of
this memory. When he spoke again, his voice was very soft and
distant. "I woke in a tiny, filthy room full of sweaty, stinking
bodies and yet there was no one I knew. I would have sold my soul
for a friend just then."

     Self-conscious, Dana looked away. Jake had never looked more
like Mulder than at that moment. But even as her heart went out
to this man, she realized that she had been unconsciously
listening for any sound from beyond the kitchen. Nothing. The
rooms did have impressive soundproofing. Just then she heard a
door open. Rising, she looked down the hall to see Skinner emerge
from the master bedroom, opening the door just enough to let
himself out and closing it as quickly. Suddenly weak, Dana sagged
against the jam. She had been granted her wish and she'd heard
enough - low moans, animal growls deep in a man's chest and a
woman's comforting response. Lisa.

     What Dana wanted more than anything at that moment was to
scream. Maybe she would but only during a long, hot shower in a
distant part of the suite that would undoubtedly have its own
excellent soundproofing. She realized then that Skinner had her
by the elbow and was leading her back to the table where Jake
sat.

     "It's getting - intense - in there," Skinner reported, his
face as inscrutable as any marine's.

     "I don't think I've quite convinced her," Jake said to the
older man.

     "You two have discussed this?" Dana asked, shocked.

     "Agent Mulder is my responsibility," Skinner explained. "I
had to know what to expect. He didn't do this to himself. It's
like that heroin he was shot up with -" Skinner stopped.

     Dana's eyes narrowed. "What heroin?"

     "Before your time," Skinner admitted, waving his hand as if
it was nothing but realizing at the same time that he shouldn't
have brought the incident up. "Mulder's not had an easy life. You
know that. He was taken hostage before for a few weeks and shot
up pretty heavily with heroine as a reward. Purdue, his partner
at the time, and I were old friends. Purdue sat with him for days
while he sweated and screamed and puked his guts out. I came in
to spell Reggie once. Mulder was not a pretty sight. That's why I
agree with Jake about this. This is going to be a long process.
You can't help him now, Agent Scully. What you need is rest. I'll
stay with him for you for now."

     Unbelievably, Dana almost giggled. Skinner was so serious
and the situation so painfully bizarre. "You're going to
chaperone and protect his virtue?"

     That evoked a tiny smile from Skinner, which his agents
certainly didn't see often. "Hardly his virtue, but then remember
I was in 'Nam and I saw things during R&R that would make this
look like a school dance."

     Jake's smug response - which wasn't meant for either of them
to see - was to smile knowingly as if to say, 'As the hours go
on, we'll just see about that.'

     "So don't worry, too much," A.D. Skinner advised. "Just get
some sleep."

     "Sleep!" another almost hysterical laugh.

     "Have you taken a look at yourself lately, Dana," Skinner
said sternly, the use of her first name cutting through where
little else would, "You're exhausted. Be honest. When was the
last time you slept well? We both know. About three months ago,
the night before Mulder was taken. Prescribe some sleeping pills
for yourself and eat so you'll be ready for him. That's my
recommendation."

     "It's not an order?" she scowled.

     "First of all Agent Mulder is a human being, a human being
who, exasperating as he may be sometimes, I respect. Officially,
I consider this a work related injury and the next few days as
treatment."

     "But I'm his doctor."

     "Only when I consider you capable. You're too tired now.
Sleep. He'll need your strength later."

     Hesitantly, Dana picked up her black doctor bag and took a
few small steps towards the lesser but still luxurious bedrooms
on the west wing of the suite. "You'll call me if he needs
anything, if it's something - medical."

     "You know we will," Jake assured her.

     "And he'll be burning up a lot of calories. He's thin
enough. You'll see that he eats?"

     Skinner took her arm and led her further along the hall she
had started down.

     "Ask room service for want he likes best and I'll see he
eats it. _That_ I'll make an order for you both."

End of Chapter 23
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (24/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Chapter 24
          &nbs p;          &nb sp;      The shower was forceful
and very hot and Dana didn't really
care how good the soundproofing was. She only knew that she did
scream. She also took the pills Skinner suggested - a double
dose. The sheets were cool and expensive against her hot skin.
Still she lay awake listening into the deadened silence at her
own screams for a very long time.

     The chemical drowsiness had just begun to feather the edges
of her consciousness when the door to the bedroom she had chosen
opened quietly. There was no light but there was a scent in the
darkness. Something familiar. Dana felt her blood pressure begin
to soar.

     Mulder.

     No, not quite, or at least not only Mulder. Also, a woman.

     Remembering Mulder when she had last seen him and who he'd
been more than close to since, Dana felt her heart shrivel to
something small and wrinkled and lonely.

     Lisa.

     "I'm sorry, Dana. Did I wake you?" came the woman's sultry,
lyrical alto from the dark.

     "Not really. Is there a problem?" Dana asked.

     "No problem. Elliot -" Lisa seemed to realize what she was
about to say. Too late now

     "Elliot's with him?" Dana guessed. She sensed the tall woman
nodding from where she still stood by the door. Despite the
warmth of the room, gooseflesh broke out of Dana's skin. "He...
he's a good man, your husband?"

      "He's the best _person_ I know." Lisa had moved closer to
the bed. Dana could still barely see her but the movement left a
trail of scent Dana could have done without. "You've probably
noticed that a person's sex doesn't mean much to a lot of us on
the island."

     "Hmmm, I noticed."

     "It's who we are that counts," Lisa explained. "Anyway, I
was thinking ... You've been through so much... I thought I'd
offer something to help you to sleep."

     She had come closer. Dana could almost feel the heat of her
body. She must be naked otherwise how could there be so much
heat. And Mulder, the smell of him, so close. How she missed him.
_So_   long. She knew instinctively what Lisa was offering. It
would be almost like being with him.

     But no. Even in the dark, even not touching... it would not
be the same at all.

     "I don't think so, Lisa. I'm -I'm sorry."

     As the figure moved away, the scent thinned, becoming little
more than a memory.

     "I'm sorry, too. I thought you should at least have a
choice."

     "Thank you... for the choice."

     Lisa left. Quiet again. A few more pills but not too many.

     There was a breeze outside her window. The rustle of palms.
A warm, mooonlit night. In the distance the serene restless
movement of the sea.

     Only one person on the island slept alone that night.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     Eighteen hours later, Dana stood at the door to Suite Seven
to see the weary foursome off. Lisa and Elliot moved down the
curving ramp cozily arm in arm. Skinner's eyes were bloodshot,
his suit rumpled, and he'd mislaid his tie somewhere.

     "I've been gone long enough, Agent Scully. Time to get back.
Are you certain you and Agent Mulder will be all right?"

     "We'll be fine, sir. The laboratory staff had been
surprisingly competent and sympathetic. Another six to ten hours
and the 'Gold' will be totally metabolized. Then I think he'll
need some down time, if you catch my meaning."

     "Yes, I think I do." He hadn't even blinked at her Mulder-
like sick joke, which said something about how tired he was.
"Elliot says you can stay here for up to two weeks if you want.
The room is paid for after all. I'd rather you weren't away that
long, but take whatever time you both need."

     "I wouldn't be surprised if we weren't at least back in D.C.
in a few day, sir." Dana stared up at the dark cavern walls as if
they were closing in on her. "This place is too gloomy. Mulder
should definitely get out of here as soon as he's able."

     Skinner nodded in agreement. "Don't come back too soon but
when you're ready Lisa or Elliot will put a plane at your
disposal to take you to the mainland. Just call the
Transportation Office when you get there and they'll issue you
tickets back. Oh, and all this," he gestured to include the
island as well as the Cavern, "it never happened. Agent Mulder
was kidnapped and drugged, interrogated and tortured. As for the
other? Downplay what you need to in your report. Mulder had
problems enough. He doesn't need news of this sort of thing
getting around."

     Before he headed off down the ramp, the A.D. gave Dana a
look that was so similar to one her father often used that Dana
felt a tightening in her chest. "Neither of you are to officially
report for work, however, until you've been cleared by Psych. We
don't need to include the gritty details in his official record,
but the physical and psychological affects of the Gold will need
to be recorded - and encrypted - in the psychologist's official
notes, but that's the only place. As far as what you two decide
in terms of your relationship after you get back to D.C. - all I
can say is - be discrete."

     Before Dana could respond to this last bombshell - though
she didn't know what she would have said anyway - Skinner had
turned and headed down the ramp towards his waiting plane.

     Dana was staring, dumbfounded, at the retreating image of
her superior's broad back, when Jake came from the apartment.
When he placed his hand lightly low on her back, she no longer
shied, only tensed slightly. With Mulder so close now and safe,
she could accept the touch as it was meant, as a friendly gesture
and nothing more.

     "What was that all about?" Jake asked, inclining his head
towards Skinner.

     "I think he just gave us his blessing." She smiled
wistfully. "Mulder and I, I mean."

     The muscles of Jake's torso rippled as he chuckled silently.
"He's okay, your Mr. Skinner." Jake looked back towards the door
to Forsyth's suite. Just one person - one severely traumatized
person - remained in those cavernous rooms. "Are you ready?"

     Dana inhaled long and deep. "I'd better be. It's just the
two of us now."

     Dana noticed that Jake's exhaustion seemed far greater than
the others had. Had he slept at all? She knew his conscience
troubled him greatly. So here was another way in which her two
men were astonishingly similar.

     Dana wondered when she had started thinking of Jake as one
of her 'men'. Almost, like family.

     "Fox kept his sense of self through the entire last cycle,"
Jake was saying, encouragingly. "Knowing that he can't fight his
body's impulses, this phase has its own problems. Still, the
worst is definitely over."

     Uneasily, Dana asked, "How was it? I mean - Well, you know
what I mean."

     "He was fine. He was remarkable, actually. It may be crude
of me, but I won't say I didn't enjoy parts of it." He shrugged.
"Of course, my tastes are warped. After all, I sold my soul to
this place, didn't I?" His voice surprising touched with
bitterness, Jake gestured with outstretched arms to encompassing
the entire island.

     Biting her lip just a little, Dana looked down the ramp
again in the direction Skinner had gone. "Skinner looked wrung
out. He ... uh... didn't, did he?"

     Jake leaned bare skin against the wall of the entryway,
smiling in that small way which she had seen so often on Mulder's
face. "You can't be serious? Mr. Marine? What he may do when
there aren't witnesses, I don't know, but he remained straight
the whole time. However, what was going on in there could hardly
remain a spectator sport."

     "But I thought you said..."

     "I just meant that he didn't do anything with our wild man
or with Elliot or me, though we did offer. Lisa, however,
certainly showed him a thing or two his 'Nam girls never did."

     The vision that comment induced was so unexpected and so
right that Dana threw back her head in a silent laugh. She
suddenly felt - lighter. The mere thought of Skinner and Lisa
exploring possibilities made her surprisingly eager to explore a
few of her own.

     She edged towards the door to the suite. "He wanted a little
time alone, but it's been long enough. I'd better go."

     Jake remained leaning against his wall and studied her. He
noted the tension. She wanted to go and yet was afraid of what
she might find - and he understood. Oh, how well, he understood.
He wanted to be with her - to be with them both - but that was no
longer his place. And never would be again.

     "Yes, I think you'd better. He has only a little time before
his hormones peak again and you two need to talk."

     Jake pushed away from the wall. "I think what I'm supposed
to say now is I hope when life gets back to normal that you'll
both be very happy."

     "It's the 'when life gets back to normal part' that's hard,
but we'll try," Dana said. "What about you? What will you do
now?" Here she was on the threshold to the suite where Mulder
waited and where they soon would be together - and Jake? Dana
suddenly felt terribly guilty as if she had just ejected this
lonely man from his home. It was almost as if she were doing this
to Mulder himself.

     "What will I do?" Jake shrugged and for a well-conditioned
man who wore the equivalent of two handkerchiefs, a shrug can
ripple a lot of muscles. "I have no choice. Go back to the main
complex. Re-adjust. Merge back into the queue. Work." Jake held
up his own red-braceleted wrist.

     Dana was appalled. "How could you? Certainly not after -"

     "I still have a contract to fulfill. I've always take
contracts seriously - like my word."

     A shudder slithered up Dana's spine. "Then give me your
word, that you'll stop doing this to yourself."

     He looked over at her with a sad, lost kind of smile then
turned to start slowly down the ramp.

     She raised her voice. "Mulder will want to talk to you again
before we leave. How can we get in touch?"

     Barely turning, he replied simply, "Any of the attendants
can find me. My every movement is tracked in the computer and all
my appointments."

     Then he was gone, his beautiful, healthy body easily moving
down the ramp despite the fact that there was no spring in his
step.

     As she entered the apartment, Dana noted that before he left
Jake had opened the thick drapes that covered the windows in the
great room. The huge expanse of glass opened onto a view of blue
sky and palm trees, white sand and green grass and sparkling
ocean. A figure was sitting by that window, huddled in a blanket
and staring out. He looked drawn out, thinned. His hair was still
wet from the bath Jake and Elliot had run him through just before
they left. That was for her sake, Dana knew. If the heavy, musky
scent of sweat and sex that lingered in the bedroom they had used
was any indication, Mulder had certainly needed it.

     She went to his side, dropping down to sit at his feet and
rest her head on his knee. She had been careful not to walk
quietly. She hadn't wanted to startle him and she hadn't. She
doubted that a nuclear bomb would have. He seemed far, far away.
Considering the private man that he was, this didn't surprise
her. His defenses must be in tatters. His face was that of an
ancient and yet very young man - defenseless and frightened under
a crumbling shell. He did lean slightly towards her, however, not
rejecting her, and that was enough.

     Dana waited for him to talk but after ten minutes and still
no word she began to worry. The clock was their enemy. Once the
hormone level built up again then the drug would begin exerting
its compulsive influence again. She desperately needed these few
minutes with Mulder as Mulder.

     "This is the first time we've been alone," she said, her
voice coming out a little hoarse at first.

     "Is it?" He shook himself like a weary animal. "Sorry, I
didn't mean that the way it sounded. I just don't remember."

     "You have every right to be bitter. I wasn't expecting Mr.
Sunshine."

     "That's fortunate, because he's nowhere to be found except
maybe out there." He inclined his head towards the window and
paused again. "This is going to..." His tired mind was clearly
searching for the words. "Scully, this is going to take a while.
None of my responses seem to be my own. It's hard to know which
to trust."

     "Trust me."

     His right hand released its death grip on the blanket and
came to settle on his knee near her hair. A finger curled gently
around one curl. "You know I do."

     "It's still good to hear you say it." She hoped her voice
was steady. A warmth had spread out from that lightest of touches
on her hair. "You must hate them," she said, "the men who did
this to you. I know I do."

     "I suppose. What I mean is, I suppose I will when I can feel
anything again." A breath came out, long and low. "They did do me
one favor they didn't realize. By shooting me up just before they
sealed me in, they probably saved my sanity. I don't remember
much when I'm on the 'stuff'. If I had been left to actually
_think_ about being down there..."

     Dana knew it hadn't been even as easy as he tried to make it
sound, but she let it pass for the moment. "I hope you're not
saying that just to make me feel better about these past two
days, about how our security plans - Skinner's and mine -caused
so much of this."

     Mulder smiled that tired, bitter smile of his. "That seems
to be the hand I've been dealt. Never easy. Never expected. Never
dull." He winced. "Not your fault."

     More silence. She felt his hand begin to stroke her hair
now. It felt _so_ good. When his fingers began to trace down her
neck and then her back, she nearly purred as the heat became
tingles that were doing some pretty wonderful things to her
insides. Suddenly, he pulled away, even going so far as to lurch
abruptly to his feet. Dana nearly groaned as he withdrew.

     "It's all right, Mulder," she said without moving so she
wouldn't startle him. "Let it happen. It will happen anyway."

     "I want it to be me," he hissed, angrily, "not some drug.
The problem is I don't know what is me any more."

     "I know."

     Pale, he looked down on where she still sat on the floor
though she had turned so they could see each other easily. She
hoped the ache and acceptance in her eyes was able to convince
him when words could not. He was trembling, afraid to touch her,
terrified. She understood. He had been through far too much and
when under this much stress his immediate reaction was always to
move away, not to come together. Forces greater than his
instincts and his pride wouldn't allow that to happen this time,
however. For herself, Dana knew only that to be separated from
him for even one more moment would be unbearable. She shifted her
eyes to ease the tension between them and patted the floor beside
her. "Come here."

     He didn't move.

     Taking a deep breath she lowered the pitch of her voice so
that it would out sophisticated-sultry the way Lisa's did. "I
said, 'Come here.' You've been a thrall so you should know how to
behave." That got his attention. His head reared up and the
blanket slipped and _that_ got Dana's attention. "It's a simple
thing, Mulder. I want you." No amount of playacting could
disguise the tears in her voice now. "I have missed you so."

     He came flowing down to her side as gracefully as a heron
coming into land on a still, cool pond. She had opened her arms
and he crept inside like a tired, lost child coming home, his
feverish, quivering body melting into hers. She laid his head on
her shoulder. He sighed, peace descending over him even as the
breath flowed out. She rocked him gently and neither spoke, nor
moved, nor wanted to.

     Their peace did not last long. A few minutes. A shudder
passed through him and his back arched involuntarily. The
movement brought him out of her arms. There was more color in his
face now, a dark wildness.

     "Time for you to leave," he said, scrambling urgently to his
feet, but she had never let go so he lifted her up at the same
time.

     "Mulder, stop. I'm not leaving."

     She pulled him to her, not abruptly, but with a slow steady
pressure. It required all her strength but she finally had him
close enough so she could clasp him around the waist. Her chin
was just about level with his collarbone and such a lovely
collarbone it was, too, even though the body underneath trembled.
Still it was just right for brushing her lips against. That
brought his shivering to a dead stop. Tilting her head, she
licked the smooth skin under his jaw. While she held him in her
spell, she unbuttoned her shirt one handed. She wasn't wearing
anything under the shirt, a fact that his round, startled eyes
were quick to notice.

     "S-Scully... what are you doing?" came his unsteady voice.

     "Getting the drop on the drug. What if I'm the one
influencing your behavior and not it?" A gentle rake of her
fingers across his flat stomach sent a ripple through every
muscle in his body. "What do you think of my plan?"

     "You expect me to think?"

     Her mouth came down on a nipple that instantly hardened. His
breath came out long and low. "Scully... stop."

     Then there was what her free hand was doing, the one not
around his waist and holding him close against her. An easy trick
with the blanket gone. And then she didn't need to physically
hold him prisoner any longer. He wasn't going anywhere.

     He moaned.

     "No... don't stop."

     Dana raised her head and cupping her hand behind his brought
his face to hers. His skin was hot, his eyes definitely so and
preternaturally bright from the drug, but he wasn't anyone she
didn't know. She covered his hungry mouth with her starving one.
His lips trembled at first then solidly closed over hers.

     In the end she came up for air first. She was the one who
had to catch her breath and try to keep her head from spinning.
Still she managed, "Do you still want me to leave?"

     "Too late," he murmured just before Dana found herself in
the air as he effortlessly swung her up into his arms and began
to bear her towards the huge bed in the center of the room with
astonishing speed. It felt so good to be in his arms and to be
borne towards the acre of black satin she'd been privately
fantasizing about since the moment she'd first seen it wasn't bad
either.

      Her body leaned wonderingly into the lean, hard muscle of
his. "You've been working out," she marveled.

     "So they tell me."

     Suddenly they were together on the bed. Dana had had no
sense of his placing her down first. They were just there -skin
to skin. His kiss this time was not wild but full of all the
loneliness and despair of four months and the real terror of so
many more that had nearly come to pass. She returned in kind, her
grief, her raw anger over what had been done to him - done to
them both - fueling her response. The salt of their two personal
oceans mingled as their tears ran down cheeks and chin and jaw.

     Events moved as quickly as hands would touch and explore and
be reassured, and legs could open and intertwine. Unable to wait
longer, wanting him to be as much a part of her as soon as
possible as if that made him more real, she pulled him into her
and he went willingly. It was like comets colliding. Later,
curled together, they listened to the quieting beat of each
other's heart.

     "Was that different from the other times?" She asked.

     Sleepily, he nuzzled that made-for place between her
shoulder and her neck. "Oh, yes..."

     "How different?"

     "Better."

     "How better?"

     He settled her more comfortably against him. "The other
times - those I remember with Lisa and Elliot and Jake, which I
can't believe I did by the way - was like diving off a cliff.
It's exhilarating but you know you're going to fall eventually
and fall hard."

     "And what was this like?"

     "Like diving off a cliff - and flying - and I don't think
I'll ever fall."

     "We all fall. Though if you do, you know I'll be there."

     "I know... to pick up the pieces as you always do."

     Another kiss and it was gentle and deep and if he were
promising to 'take it slow' this time. While she was still
climbing her mountain, however, she felt his body stiffen against
hers and make a move as if to try to leave her again.

     "Don't you dare." She put her arms around his neck to keep
him with her.

     "Don't you understand? It's coming back," he mourned in
despair.

     "And do you think that matters to me? It will be okay. It
will always be okay."

End of Chapter 24
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (25/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Chapter 25
          &nbs p;          &nb sp;      Two days later, Jake
was making like a lizard and dozing in
the sun in the sun-heated sand. He was nearly asleep when he was
hailed by a familiar voice raised over the soft murmur of the sea
breaking gently on the shore. Mulder approached from across the
grass from the pool. His strides were purposeful but easy, and
there was a genuine smile on his face.

     "There you are. Elliot said you had some free time. I didn't
think thralls had free time."

     Jake grimaced. "We do have a bit. Enough to catch our
breath." Jake stretched, hoping the carelessly languid movement
did not look as faked as it felt. In truth he was all-too-acutely
aware of his nakedness. Mulder had completely covered his body in
European cut slacks and a loose, collarless, long-sleeved shirt.

     "So your bags are packed and you're ready to go?"

     "I didn't exactly have anything to pack but, yes, the flight
crew is assembling. I do have a few minutes." His movements
supple, Mulder lowered himself to sit down on the dry sand beside
Jake. That he could move so well, like a dancer, didn't surprise
Jake; Mulder had certainly had enough exercise lately.

     "Those clothes look familiar," Jake noted, with a curving
lip.

     "They should; they're yours. Elliot took the liberty of
borrowing them from the clothes you have here in storage. I'll
mail them back."

     "No keep them, I have enough to get home on. Besides, they
look good on you. Give Scully a thrill. There is more to life
then FBI power suits."

     "Such as this place?" The question didn't seem to require a
response and Jake didn't give one. Mulder squinted into the sun.
"When you arrive, they really do lock away your possessions?"

     "We've dumped down here naked as they day we're born.
Nothing to remind us of our old life. What you see is what we are
- indentured servants for the length of our contract, bound to do
the bidding of our masters. Nothing more."

     Mulder shivered visibly but made no comment.

     Jake was immediately aware of the other's reaction. "I'll
always regret that I roped you into all that. I took advantage
when your defenses were _way_ down. I should have said the hell
with the Club's anonymity and let you call Scully that first
day."

     "You weren't yourself either."

     Jake's eyebrows raised. "You think Alex -?"

     Mulder's lips pursed together in a thin line. "Alex.
Remember I had her in me more than once and I don't mean only
when she took total control. I think that after you found me that
she began influencing my actions as well as yours. She didn't
want me to leave any more than she wanted you to."

     "Nice of you to be willing to let me off the hook. So now
with Alex cavorting on the other side trying everything Lisa
taught her on saints and archangels, and you're on your way home
to track down bad guys with the lovely Scully, you're probably
wondering why I'm still here."

     "The thought did cross my mind."

     Jake leaned back on his hands and crossed his legs
enticingly at the ankle. Mulder blushed slightly and shifted
uncomfortably. "Sorry, habit," Jake apologized. "I wanted to see
if I could still get a rise out of you."

     "Unlike what Scully may have thought the first five years of
our partnership, I'm not made of stone. I took enough cold
showers to float the Queen Elizabeth II. Being here, being with
you, has shown me the another side of myself. Not the dominant
side, but still a part of what I am which I have to learn to
respect."

     Jake wished that Mulder had been looking at him at that
moment so he could remember and treasure the expression in the
other's eyes, but the agent was gazing off into the sun again. In
seemed to be his way of dealing with difficult subjects.

     "Alex was with me in my watery grave. Did you know that?"
Mulder asked without moving.

     "I suspected as much."

     "You don't mind?"

     "Mind? That you weren't alone? Why should I mind?"

     Mulder's eyes unfocused a bit. "It was like when you're in
the hospital and you're about to go under the knife. You are in
total panic because you don't know whether the doctors are going
to be able to bring you out of it or not and all the while the
drugs are stealing your mind. You don't really feel the panic and
yet you know its there." His broad shoulders visibly relaxed.
"And then, completely out of the blue, there's this hand holding
yours."

     "I'm sorry. I only wish I could have arranged for Dana to be
there to hold your hand."

     Without changing his expression, which was more thoughtful
than anything, Mulder turned his head enough to observe his
'cousin'. "Certain you weren't the one who you wanted to be doing
the handholding?"

     Jake looked flustered at the words and then - blushed.
Mulder didn't think that was possible.

     "Do you want to know the truth?" Mulder asked. "I wouldn't
have minded. Really. I would actually have preferred that to
Scully. What you and Skinner did here - keeping us apart during
the worst - that was the right thing to do."

     "Dana didn't think so at the time."

     "No, she didn't. I think she contemplated putting ground
glass in your soup but she came around."

     Mulder picked up small seashell, a little curving couch
shell. An edge had chipped on the open lip but you still couldn't
see inside. With an effort he threw it far down the beach where
perhaps a passing couple would find it and maybe it would remind
them that inside each of us there is so much that we don't know
and that we are, none of us, perfect.

     "So why are you still here?" Mulder asked. "Seems a waste."

     The affected pose Jake had assumed smoothed away. Suddenly
he was not Jacob, sex slave to the rich and the famous. He was
just  a man - true, a naked man - but just this guy. He reached
for a pair of damp swimming trunks and slipped them on.

     "Is this better?" Jake asked when he was 'dressed'. "Don't
look so shocked. No, I do not swim naked. There are minnows and
jelly fish and worse down there and there are places I'd like to
protect, thank you very much."

     Mulder laughed, genuinely more comfortable with Jake than
Jacob. "No more evasions. What will you do now?"

     "I'm not evading. I'm just having trouble finding my balance
right now." Jake sighed from somewhere deep inside. "Since Alex
left me and our little rescue broke up, I've felt at loose ends."

     "Just a little trouble?"

     Those FBI eyes bored in Jake's. Jake turned away, squinting
into the sun. "What do you want me to say? That this place
doesn't work for me anymore? With Elliot, with Lisa... with
you... " he added after some hesitation, "I still could and would
do anything. But with strangers -"

     Mulder could see that the conversation was painful but that
it was also critical to see it through. "'With strangers' what?'"
For the longest time Mulder's gaze continued, focused and
unblinking.

     Jake's insides felt as if a nest of crawling things had
taken up housekeeping. "Shit, Mulder, do you do that to all your
suspects? You must extract confessions left, right and center.
What do you want from me? To see the tears? Do you want me to
show you how I can sob into a pillow so silently that my client
never knows? It's worse than things being a little uncomfortable.
After Alex's inner-city appetite, the Club was such a relief.
Paradise. I enjoyed being picked out of the crowd, being wanted
and desired. Or I thought I did. Now I hate it. I hate being
handed over to be some stranger's dish for the night. I hate
their hands touching me."

     "But you do it. There's a word for that, you know."

     As if shot, Jake launched himself to his feet scattering the
sand. "And I know what it is. I didn't use to care."

     "Now you care. So stop. Leave."

     "I have a bloody contract," Jake hissed, "and I wasn't
kidding about what I said they do here to the rebellious types.
Unfortunately, they believe that a thrall rebels because they
desire to be punished, to get that kind of masochistic attention.
Well, I don't want that kind of attention. I never did." Jake
wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered.

     Like any good clinical psychologist Mulder continued to sit
quietly - observant and dispassionate. Inside, however, he felt
deeply for Jake. The man wasn't just reluctant to take on the
Club's punishment. He was terrified. For months, blindfolded, he
had been driven relentlessly to the top of a very high and scary
place. Now the blindfold was off and he was teetering on the
edge.

     Mulder's eyes softened. "As afraid as you are to stay,
you're also afraid to go back, aren't you? It's been a lonely
couple of years since Alex's death. Now you don't even have her
ghost with you."

     Jake had turned his face away. Mulder rose and found himself
placing an arm casually around those bowed shoulders. Funny, he
couldn't have done that before this time on the island with Jake.
Now this simple comforting contact man-to-man felt right and not
at all threatening.

     "Before Scully, I knew what loneliness was. None better. Why
do you think I've gone so slowly with her? I don't dare mess this
up. It may be my only chance. From what little I know, I'd say
Alex was a wreck to start with. I had a woman like that once. It
was good for her but not for me. So I'd say you haven't found
your one and only yet. You need to keep looking." Mulder glanced
around the perfectly beautiful, perfectly artificial resort. "But
I doubt that you'll find her - or him - here."

     Jake let his weight rest comfortably against Mulder for a
few moments more, then gently stepped away. "Her or him? See what
a mess I am? I'm not even sure of what my sexual orientation is
any more." He squared his shoulders. "But I won't find those kind
of answers here either, will I? What's the truth? On one hand I
want out of Paradise. I want to go home and work, to be creative
again. I want to run in the park and play Frisbee with Stella, my
dog. I want to be free and be no man's plaything and no woman's
either, living or dead. On the other hand," Jake continued as he
paced faster and faster back and forth, his feet sinking into the
soft, white sand, "I like Elliot and Lisa, both of them. Well,
Elliot I thought once I could love but there's no future there.
Let's just say that I don't want to lose them as friends. I have
so few left."

     Mulder certainly knew where the man was coming form there.

     "I'll never be the person I was before Alex," Jake
continued, "and I don't want to be the person I've been for the
nearly three years since, but is there anything of the old Jake
left? I know I'm not going to find him here."

     "So why don't you leave?"

     "Because I've still got three more damn weeks left on my
contract!" Miserable, Jake threw his head back and stared at the
endless, imprisoning gray sea. "And I have to keep playing the
game because if I don't I'll be punished and punishment -
terrible as it is - doesn't even count towards your contract
time."

     Mulder sat back down on the sand. If he could, he'd get Jake
to do that, too. Anchor himself somehow. "Go to Elliot and Lisa,"
he suggested to Jake's bowed back. "Tell them the truth."

     "And they're going to believe that a ghost made me do it?"
Jake replied, his voice bitterly sarcastic.

     A voice came from the direction of a stand of ornamental
bamboo. "How do you know what we'd believe, if we're never given
the chance?"

     Elliot and Lisa in 'normal' clothes - normal at least for
the island - emerged from behind the bamboo. Jake stared at them
then shot Mulder a searing glance. "You set this up."

     Mulder smiled in all innocence. "It's the sort of thing that
is frowned upon in my line of work, but I always wanted to do
it."

     "I'm glad he told us," Elliot declared, "and Sister Serena
confirmed the 'wild tale' though I would have believed you if you
had just asked me to. I have come to trust you, Jake. Certainly
you know that."

     'Jake', not 'Jacob'.

     Lisa draped herself on a decorative rock. "I'm not so
certain that I believe it all, but Elliot has convinced me that
he saw stranger things when he was in El Salvador and Cambodia."
Her eyes rested fondly on her mate. "And I trust Elliot and so
there's no more that need be said about that."

     "Except," Elliot said, crossing the last few feet of grass
to stop close to Jake in the sand, "that it has been a tremendous
blow to my ego to think that you were only attracted to me
because you were possessed."

     "Elliot, I didn't mean..." Jake raised his head, his eyes
swirling. Clearly he didn't know what he meant.

     If he hadn't been so agitated, Jake might have noticed the
genuine regret that passed over Elliot's strong, handsome face,
but Mulder saw it, as did Lisa.

     Elliot raised his hand to reach for a tanned, leanly
muscular shoulder but left the hand hanging. "May I still touch
you?"

     Jake didn't move away but his spine stiffened. "You are the
Thrall Master; I belong to you. You can do anything you want."

     Anger blazed in Elliot's eyes. This Jake saw and it only
confused him all the more because he hadn't seen the pain before.

     Lisa rose from her rock and stalked over to the two of them
the ever-present strap swinging from its loop around her wrist.
"Males!" she swore. Without hesitation she flicked them both
across the front of their thighs, husband and slave both.

     Startled, Elliot's irritation dissolved as suddenly as it
had come. He raised an eyebrow in Jake's direction. "Don't you
just love her when she's angry."

     Conspicuously ignoring her mate, Lisa declared, "Jacob,
raise your left hand."

     Steeling himself for another blow, Jake did as he was
commanded.

     "That's the last whipping the Jacob will ever receive from
any staff on this island. What Jake might desire, however, either
Elliot or I or both would be happy to dispense." With that she
took out a little key like a tiny golden Allen wrench and removed
the red bracelet from his wrist. She dropped it into his started,
open palm. "I hope you keep it as a souvenir of your time with us
and don't think of us too harshly."

     When he continued to stare at her dumbfounded, she
explained. "Do you think we would really keep people here against
their will? Granted, understanding what each person's 'will' is,
is sometimes hard to fathom, but that's why each novice is
assigned a trainer who gets to know that slave inside and out.
That's so we know what we're dealing with. We've come to know you
Jake and so over the last two days we listened to the reports
about you and we worried. We knew you were unhappy, that
something was wrong, but we thought it was just taking you time
to get over everything that happened. We assumed that you trusted
us and would come to us if you needed help."

     Jake was still staring at his bare wrist. "You're going to
get into trouble over this. You already let Elliot off years
ago."

     "And others since," Elliot broke in. "We just don't
publicize. People come here to be pushed to their limits, but not
to destroy their souls. There's nothing worse than bad sex, Jake.
That's not what this place is about. As for 'trouble'? This
incident with 'Isaac' was nearly disastrous. It's forcing us to
rethink the entire concept of the Caverns."

     Jake was distracted from Elliot's recounting of his business
problems by the intense way Lisa was studying him. She clearly
wasn't listening either. Was she regretting the rash act of his
emancipation.

     "Jake," she said in her old tone. "Come over her and kiss
me."

     His eyebrows rose, his eyes flashed, and he didn't move.

     Lisa rolled her eyes in Elliot's direction. "Give them an
inch... Very well." Before Jake's eyes, Lisa transformed. Her
clothes didn't change, neither her hair nor her height nor her
eye color, but suddenly everything was different. She was just
this tall, dark-haired, beautiful woman and not the terrifying
'Perfectionist'.

     "Jake Simmons, would you _Please_ come over here and kiss
me."

     He did, as much to see if he could and to see how it felt,
then because she had asked him.

     As kisses went at The Club it was chaste, but then he was
testing. She smelled of vanilla of all things, and lavender. Her
lips were soft as was her body in his arms. He found he liked the
way she touched him in those few seconds. Something stirred
within him, something sweet and clear. So he wasn't all dead
inside.

     He came up for air to find Elliot waiting expectantly,
almost shyly.

     Very well, Jake thought. Why not?

     Elliot was hard and alive, strong and protective. A safe
home. Something definitely stirred within Jake, but he came away
just as confused as he had been before.

     "Well?" Elliot asked? "Better or worse?"

     Jake had to take a little time before answering.
"Different?"

     Elliot smiled with relief. "Yes, I've always felt that way,
too."

     Lisa meanwhile was rolling the remnants of their kiss around
in her mouth like a fine wine. "Not bad but you weren't so
virtuous the other night when we were working the sex maniac
there," she nodded in Mulder's direction.

     Jake had wondered about that himself. "I was running on
adrenaline," he explained, "or you could say 'on fumes'. Alex's
fumes."

     Still musing over the kiss, she said, "Well, it's a start,"
and made a move to turn back towards Elliot but not without first
skipping her finger tips down Jake's naked chest.

     "Some of Jacob must still be in there. He'd better be; it
would be a pity to lose all that potential. Come back to the
villa," she whispered in that sultry alto of hers, "and we'll
have brunch and talk about what you can do to work off the rest
of your contact."

     Alarmed, Jake switched his attention back to Elliot to find
the older man's eyes alight with laughter.

     "Lisa's just trying to scare you. She's good at that. What I
was going to say before we were all so delightfully distracted by
Lisa's little experiment was that we thought you might be willing
to help us with some paperwork for a couple of weeks if you don't
mind. Strain your brain for once. The other members of the Board
are going to require that we investigate all the contracts of all
the private clients and their resident companions in depth. You
know the lingo and the residents. We thought you could help with
that."

     "And maybe," Lisa said most casually, "we can play a hand or
two or three of strip poker after dinner?"

     Jake's eyebrows twitched and with an amused expression on
his face looked down at his lack of attire. "I feel I'm at a
distinct disadvantage there, especially at the moment."

     With a laugh, Elliot took a bundle from under his arm.
"Shorts and a muscle shirt. I wouldn't want to hide _all_ that
beauty. Come along when you're ready. We'll have your things
brought up from storage and you can stay with us at the villa for
the next few weeks - in the guest room if you prefer." With a
wink to Jake and a nod to the FBI agent sitting relaxed with legs
outstretched in the sand, Elliott took Lisa's arm and they
started back towards the resort together.

     Jake made a move to put the clothes on but before he could
Mulder rose from his hollow in the warm sand to help him brush
the sand off his legs and back. Rather more aggressively than he
needed to, Jake helped brush the sand from Mulder's butt through
his clothes. For a moment it looked like there was going to be a
wrestling match right across the beach and into the surf.
Instead, they both broke off, laughing. Straightening, they found
themselves staring into each other's eyes. There was no
embarrassment; it was just an acknowledgement that neither had
forgotten what had happened between them.

     Jake dressed quickly, pulling the shorts on over his skimpy
dry suit. Clothes again. To Mulder's eyes his smile was blissful
as if a hundred burdens had dropped from his shoulders.

     Without comment they began following the path Elliot and
Lisa had made across the perfect lawn. "They lay a good table,"
Jake said to Mulder.

     "You're actually going?" Mulder asked, unbelieving.

     Jake gave a knowing smile. "Do you think I was a prude
before Alex?"

     "So I take it you agree with how things have worked out."

     "About as well as they can. No personal service is required
and I'll be able to fulfill my contact. That's important to me.
They used to have a word for that - honor. It might even be -
fun." He winked impishly at Mulder. "Certain you don't want to
come along, have brunch, lose a hand or two or three? I'm certain
Lisa cheats."

     A voice drifted to them both over the tropical air. From the
direction of the airfield, Scully was waving at them from the top
of the gentle rise.

     "What a selfish, ungrateful wretch I am. You spent the last
half hour psychoanalyzing me and I haven't even asked how you're
holding together."

     A shadow passed over Mulder's bright eyes. "Together - with
duct tape and spit but together. I'll manage. I always do."

     "Dana looks wonderful," Jake commented, inclining his head.
"Glowing. Have you two been getting sufficient rest and
relaxation these last couple of days?"

     It was Mulder's turn to blush. "That and exercise. I didn't
think I could. I didn't think I'd want to."

     Jake's smile broadened. "Then I'd say it's not about sex any
longer."

     "Do you mean... it's about...?" Dramatically, Mulder made it
appear as if the word was caught in his throat.

     "The 'L' word?" Jake asked, grinning.

     Mulder sobered. "Oh, it's been about that for a long time."

     They had reached the edge of the sapphire pool. The white
shell walk to the right would take Jake towards the villa. Scully
was waving from their left urging Mulder to hurry. It was time
that the two men go their separate ways.

     "Don't be a stranger," Mulder said. "I want to know how
you're doing. I really do, but if that's too hard considering how
you feel..."

     Jake put his hands in his pockets. Blessed pockets! "I was
afraid it would be you who would rather not hear from me again. I
can take the rejection if you can forget the unpleasant parts."

     "'Unpleasant' is your word not mine. Did I ever complain?
Actually, Scully has said in the past that I'm pretty reserved -"

     "Repressed," Jake corrected. "At least that's what she told
me back in Washington."

     "Did she? I don't think she'd say that now. On the subject
of prudishness, I haven't told you everything about my wild youth
either. Seriously, I don't have that many friends - or family
either - that I can afford to lose any, any more than you can.
Besides our friendship could prove useful. I've never had a twin
I could pull all those fun twin tricks with."

     "If you want to try it with Dana, I'm game."

     "In your dreams."

     They were still standing where the path diverged. "What will
you do after you leave here?" Mulder asked,

     "Work... architect-type work if the firm will have me back,"
Jake clarified. "And I'm going to seriously keep an eye out for a
life companion. This being responsibility free just doesn't make
it any more. And no more lurking in on other people's lives.
Maybe I'll come back here for vacation. It's a really nice
place," he defended to Mulder's amazement, "though they may not
let me come if I become too fat and successful to be appealing
any longer. There are standards even for clients."

     "If you find the right person who loves you for yourself,
they won't see what the years do, then you never have to worry
about being unappealing."

     They both heard Scully call again, a light song on the wind.

     Now that the moment of parting had come, both found it
difficult and yet unavoidable. Life went on. Mulder made the
first move again. He had to because Jake wouldn't, afraid that
anything from him would be misconstrued. He pulled Jake into a
brief, rough embrace.

     Alone, Jake went a little way up the shell path towards the
villa, marveling on how _clean_ he felt. Pausing, he looked back
and saw that Mulder's stride had lengthened. He was nearly
running. Dana Scully was standing at the top of the walk, tapping
her foot as she waited. Her arms were crossed, but her smile was
radiant.

     Jake turned away rather than witness their meeting.

     Alex had never loved him that way. She had loved only Alex,
had seen only the world by how it touched her. Elliot, however,
did love him, Elliot who was a color blind to sex as anyone Jake
had ever known. Love was love. Just that.

     What had Elliot told him once? Everyone had many sides. Alex
and now Lisa appealed to Jake's male side, Elliot to his female
side.  Some day, some muscle-bound surfer might appeal to
another. Who knew, maybe even an ex-nun in time. Mulder and
Scully loved him, too, but in a different way. Somewhere there
must be someone who could - if not love all the sides of him -at
least understand them all. One special person; one who would
stay.

     Out there on that priceless night before the races when they
had sat on the sand and just talked, Mulder had hinted that he
was on some mysterious quest and from day to day didn't always
know where it would take him, where he was going. Maybe not, but
at least he had his Scully, his light, to make his path a little
easier to follow.

     Someday, Jake knew, he would find his light and he would
shout the news to Elliot and Lisa and Mulder and Scully and they
would be happy for him. For now that would have to do.

The End (Now I can finally get back to REVELATIONS 3: The
vacation.)