~*~ ~*~

  Hours later, Scully was feeling the effects of having gone
without sun block for their hammock interlude. She wasn't
sunburned so much as rosy; her skin tingled all over with warmth
and she was dusted with freckles. Mulder had delighted in
thoroughly mapping each new one when they'd showered after
disentangling themselves from the wreckage of the hammock. Not
for the first time, they'd discovered that they had been hanging
by a thread.  

  In the late afternoon, they wandered out to do errands. Mulder
enthusiastically showed her favorite spots from his childhood
while steadfastly refusing to tell her where they were going.
Much to her amusement, his errands involved shopping at the
island's General Store. Set at a crossroads with little else
around it, the store had an eclectic mix of gourmet grocery
items and typical beach town community needs. Exotic coffees,
cheap styrofoam coolers, organic sun block, infused olive oils
and plastic flip-flops coexisted peaceably in the same store.
Mulder's purpose in patronizing this particular store became
clear when he purchased a new hammock, but one with a stand this
time. The clerk had promised to deliver it to the house at the
end of the business day. 

  Their next stop was the fish market, the first place that
somebody recognized Mulder since they had arrived on the island.
She was rather surprised to observe him carrying on a lively
discussion with the fishmonger about fishing restrictions, who
had moved to the mainland and all manner of romantic scandal.
Scully was introduced with no small amount of pride to the
counterman, who had extended his large, chapped hand with a
grin, honestly pleased to meet her. They'd left the store with
some lobster salad for dinner and a promise of first crack at
the catch of the day for the rest of the weekend.

  Although those stores had been relatively close together,
necessitating only a short walk across a sporadically busy
street, the supermarket was miles from where they were staying.
The vista around them was mostly that of unbroken greenery, the
setting far more pastoral than she had imagined an island would
be. Roads off the main one they were traveling on were more
common as they moved down-island, but there weren't a lot of
houses visible. The greenery was interrupted by the occasional
roadside parking lots designed to hold a few cars. The beaches
lay at the other end of the sandy paths that extended from the
parking lots, Mulder informed her, necessitating a hike through
woods and over dunes in most cases. She remarked that hadn't
seen the ocean since they'd disembarked from the ferry and
Mulder had only smiled. 

  Now, they sat on a blanket on the tiny beach for Menemsha
township, awaiting the sunset. Scully's sandals were off and her
newly painted toenails were bared to the waning sun. The faded
summer-weight blanket below them had been worn thin over the
years, but was a soft barrier between her and the rough sand.
She was bracketed by Mulder, his legs planted on either side of
her, his torso behind her as he rested against the cooler that
had held their dinner and the champagne he had poured into their
chilled glasses. She held her glass up and examined the cascade
of bubbles that shivered to the surface. She had been told once
that the mark of an excellent glass of champagne was in the
compactness and number of its bubbles. Her glass was filled with
the tiniest bubbles she had ever seen. 

  Mulder clinked her glass from above and she took a sip when he
moved his away. He hadn't offered a toast and didn't need to.
They knew what they were drinking to. She sighed and relaxed
more fully against him, rubbing his knobby knee with affection.
He leaned forward and kissed her temple in answer.

  In silence, they watched the sun fall below the surface of the
water and the sky progress through the spectrum of sunset colors
before it darkened to deepest blue. Replete with excellent
champagne and a cold supper that had featured the lobster salad,
they reacquainted themselves with the everyday beauty of the
world. The beach was virtually deserted except for them. Now and
then fishing trawlers would navigate the nearby channel to get
to the docks, but other than the occasional noise of a boat
throttle, they rested in the quiet. It seemed to her that the
concerns of their workaday world had become even more surreal in
light of the peaceful beauty of their surroundings. Even the
ever-moving surface of the ocean was becalmed in this small
harbor, the water only gently lapping at the shore's edge. 

  Her perspective might have been skewed by the bottle of
champagne they had emptied, but it was hard, in the face of this
serenity, to perceive of a world in which monsters roamed and
madmen stole children for insidious use. With both of Mulder's
arms around her and the feeling of him breathing deeply and
evenly in unison with her, she realized a kind of grace she had
not felt in a long time. She crossed her arms over his and
hugged them in affirmation of her feelings before she turned her
head and drew his gaze down from the heavens. He regarded her
with an expression that told her that he understood exactly what
she felt in this serene setting and that he shared, for this one
time, her point of view in its entirety. She kissed him, and
poured all the tenderness she felt into it as she pressed her
lips to his. When she drew back, they smiled at one another. He
rested his forehead against hers for a moment and then, still
silent, they turned back to watch the stars come out one by one.
  
~*~ ~*~

  Mulder was surprised at how much he was enjoying showing
Scully his childhood home. After packing up their picnic dinner,
they crossed the island in search of dessert in Edgartown. Here,
the remnants of the island's post-colonial glory as a whaling
capital were readily evident in the architecture of the
captain's houses that lined the narrow streets. The colorful
shops and restaurants that heralded the truth of their modern
era didn't detract from the charm of the scenery, although it
did seem particularly noisy to him after the calm of Menemsha.
They stood in line with families and other couples, young and
old, waiting for ice cream at a shop that had opened in the
years since he'd left the island. It had been Caleb's
recommendation that they give this store a chance and he was
more than willing to indulge his sweet tooth.

  Scully was avidly people watching in her quietly intense
fashion. Even he, the jaded ex-local, had to admit the watching
was pretty good. They were in line with one major movie star, a
rock star, a couple of corporate titans, a famous academic and a
few other people who looked familiar, and not because he
remembered them from his years here. The line was long and slow
moving; he had forgotten that this was the last week of school
in Massachusetts. The island was already crowded with summer
people and would only get more so as the days drew closer to
July 4th. As much as he was enjoying their sojourn into
humanity, he couldn't wait to get his ice cream and take Scully
back up island to relative peace and obscurity. 

  He poked her gently with his elbow as they drew abreast of the
featured flavors list and asked, "See anything interesting?"

  "Yes," she answered, without looking at the list, "isn't that
actor supposed to be married to a woman?" 

  He chuckled. "Uh-huh," he answered, then added, "who knows,
Scully? Lots of people have secrets." He nudged her with his
knee and her eyes twinkled.

  "I just think it's sort of sad," she said. "Although I will
admit that there is a kind of magic in good secrets." She smiled
up at him, tilting her head to the side. "Do they have any
Chubby Hubby?" she asked innocently. 

  He laughed and looked at the list, "Well, they have all the
makings, but not the actual item. You'll have to improvise."

  She smiled at him again, keeping her tone light, "Who's the
older man in the blue shirt that's staring at you?" she asked.

  Mulder sighed. He supposed it was too much to ask that Scully
wouldn't have noticed him with her powers of observation.

  "He's retired from the Chilmark police force," he answered
succinctly, knowing that she would grasp what he wasn't saying.

  Her blue eyes turned serious, but a spark of something
dangerous shot across their surface. "And he thought?" she asked
elliptically and then waited for his nod. "Even though you were
12? Even though Samantha was gone and no trace of her has ever
been found on this island?" Her voice was low, but he could hear
the anger in it.

  He touched her shoulder, drawing his finger across the dusting
of gold there. "We both know that children have killed, Scully."

  "Not you," she answered without equivocation. 

  He couldn't stop the smile that played at the corner of his
lips at her words or the surge of love that he felt for her
steadfast certainty. 

  He turned back to the list and focused on deciding what he was
getting for dessert. When he felt Scully move, he turned around
to find that she was now standing with her back to him, her arms
crossed as she faced the end of the line. She stared at Joe
Mitchell until he turned his attention from Mulder and looked at
her. Mulder couldn't see Scully's expression, but Joe flinched,
a just barely visible recoil followed by widening eyes. The
silent confrontation continued for a full minute before Joe, red
around the collar and the ears, turned and simply left the line.
Mulder glanced around the crowd in which they stood. With the
exception of one or two observant people, everybody seemed
unaware of what had just taken place. 

  Scully turned all the way around and began to study the list
of ice cream choices, her posture casual. She picked up his hand
and held it over her heart as she read over the list with
interest. "I'm going to have a sundae," she announced in a firm
voice, "with marshmallow, caramel and fudge."

  "No holds barred, eh, Scully?" he said, around the lump in his
throat. She looked up at him with eyes still darkened by the
force of her passion, but there was no reproach for him in her
gaze. 

  "No mercy, Mulder," she answered. They both knew that she was
aware of the tears in his eyes, but she made no mention of it.
He was helpless in the face of his feelings for her, and found
himself bowing to them, despite the fact that they were in
public. He bent and kissed her once, then twice in rapid
succession. In answer, she opened her hand in his and knit their
fingers together as they broke apart. Together, they waited.
 
~*~ ~*~

June 26, 1999
Aquinnah, MA

  By the time Scully got out of the house the next morning,
Mulder had already set up the new hammock and discarded the
remnants of the old one. They had slept surprisingly late, then
found other reasons not to get out of bed right away. She felt
relaxed and loose-limbed as she strolled across the deck, with a
couple of virology journals that she'd been meaning to catch up
on and a tube of sun block. She'd picked the journals up and put
them back in her suitcase three times before deciding that she
should read them, even though they were supposed to be taking a
break. It was a beautiful early summer day, although the sky was
a bit cloudy in the distance.

  She stopped short of the hammock when she saw that Mulder was
reading what were clearly folders of research from the Gunmen.
He looked up with a sheepish expression that rapidly changed as
he saw what she was wearing.  From the wolf whistle she had
received for her modest two-piece, one would think that she'd
decided to join the nudists he insisted could be easily found on
the island, sometimes even in one's own backyard. He hastily
cleared her side of the hammock and folded up the research,
revealing a pair of sun-bleached and ragged cutoff jeans that
had to be as ancient as the moccasins he had been wearing the
other day. She raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged.

  "It's a little cooler than it was the other day," he said as
she settled down next to him. "One shouldn't take this as a
statement of intent," he murmured, kissing her brow, then
whispering, "they're pretty easy access." 

  She smiled at him, then leaned up to kiss him. "I see I'm not
the only one thinking of other things." She indicated his
folders with her chin and then raised her own reading. Mulder
sighed when he saw it. "What have you got there?"

  "I don't know yet," he answered. "Langly's been trying to
follow the money from all the companies that are folding up.
Where it came from, where it went to?" he shrugged again.
"Besides, I was just waiting for you to come outside." He
stretched down and picked up a book she hadn't noticed before
off the lawn.

  "Busman's Honeymoon," she read aloud. 

  "The continued adventures of Lord Peter and Harriet Vane," he
said triumphantly. She laughed out loud at his delight. "It
seemed fitting."

   They spent what little was left of the morning, rocking in
the hammock while Mulder read aloud. It had been weeks since
they'd spent any time doing this, and Scully felt herself
returning to the state of drowsy relaxation that had typified
her long recuperation from her gunshot wound. Lulled by the
rocking and the sound of Mulder's warm monotone, she dozed off
before Lord Peter and Harriet were even married. When she awoke,
after it was due to the chilly breeze that had pebbled her skin.


 "Mulder," she rasped. He murmured a response, intent on the
research. She repeated his name.

  He'd gotten a pencil at some point and was making hieroglyphic
marks in the margin. "Hmm?" he intoned, not taking his eyes from
the page.

  "I'm cold," she said and snuggled closer to him. He grunted in
response and wrapped an arm around her. "When did the sun go
in?"

  After a moment, he dropped the research on the ground next to
him with a look of disgust on his face. "About a half an hour
ago," he answered, "but I don't think it's going to rain."

  "Bad?" she asked, pointing at the research with her chin. He
had closed his other arm around her and was chafing her skin. 

  "No," Mulder said slowly, "but I just don't see that it's
going to get me anywhere." He sounded frustrated. "I don't know
where to look next, Scully." He sighed, then shivered. "It is
cold. Why don't we go in?" 

  After a late lunch and a shower, Mulder talked her into going
to one of the up-island beaches for a walk. She had wrapped
herself in a thick sweatshirt to ward off the breeze; Mulder was
wearing a thinner one and laughed at the sight of them. 

  "I've become a thin-blooded landlubber, Scully. In New
England, this is not cool weather. I guarantee you there'll be
people in the water on the beach."

  "Mulder, it's only 60 degrees out there!" Scully said.

  "You'll see," he answered. 

  As disinclined as she was to believe the impossible, Scully
was glad to see that most people on the beach were as dressed up
as she was. Yet, Mulder was right: there were people in the
water, and not all of them were wearing surf gear, some trying
to ride the erratic wind-driven waves in just bathing suits.

  "A lot different than San Diego, huh?" Mulder asked.

  "Mulder, this place is about as different from San Diego as
Japan was when I lived there." She walked over to the water's
edge and waited until the swell touched her feet, then shivered
from the chill. "The water must be fifty degrees." 

  He nodded. "It won't get much above sixty on this part of the
shoreline," he answered. "It's warmer at other beaches, but ?
not by much. I never knew how cold the water was here until I
swam elsewhere." He turned away from the water to look at her
with a speculative expression on his face. "What was it like,
growing up in San Diego?"

  "A lot more crowded than it is here," she said finally. 

  "That's it?" he asked. "That's the summation of your
childhood?"
 
  "Mulder," she sighed, "you saw what it was like when you were
out on the base."

   He nodded, "Lots of kids," he said, "lots of families. It
seemed like a community."

  "It was," she said, "but you shouldn't think of it like we
were really a part of San Diego. The base was like its own
little world. Everybody's house looked the same," she said.
"People were always moving in and moving out."

  He waited for her to add to her brief assessment. 

  "I don't know, Mulder," she said, "I don't know how to
characterize it for you. It just was, that's all. I don't miss
living on the base, that's for sure. I like living in a place
where everybody's house is different, you know?" She kicked at
the water. "I don't know. I loved the weather, but ? I was a
fish out of water in San Diego. I was never good at laid back
and outside the base it was still California. And, the Navy kids
were generally looked down upon. It was the '70s. Vietnam was
just ending. I think it made us even more insular." She looked
up at him and shrugged.

  "Uh huh," he said.

  "That's really it," she said, "no deep, dark secrets. I was
just kind of a serious girl in a frivolous world. Being smart
and kind of geeky didn't help my social life on the base
either." She turned and began walking down the shoreline again,
turning back when he didn't follow her immediately.
 
  "Do you hate talking about your past?" he asked.

  "Mulder, are you analyzing me?" Scully asked.

  "Nope," he said easily, skipping a stone that was swallowed by
a big wave. "I'm just curious to know more about you."

  "You know more about me than anybody else in this world," she
said simply.

  He turned and looked at her wordlessly for a long moment. "I
guess I just want to know more," he said, then added. "You can
be very mysterious."

  "Like I said, Mulder -- there's no deep, dark secret," she
said. "Just typical family stuff."

  He waited her out. 

  "Mulder, it's very annoying when you do that," she said with
irritation and began walking again. 

  "Are we having a fight now, Scully?" he asked as he fell into
step with her. 

  She sighed. "Yes. No. I don't know. You know what I think this
is?" she asked.

  "No," he answered, "I don't."

  "Melissa used to describe this kind of thing as the Family
Myths," she said. "You know, Dana's dependable and Missy's
flighty, when in fact, Missy was a damned good student who never
missed a day of school in high school, but the idea was
ingrained in both of us that I was the more traditional one of
the two of us." 

  "And the truth was something different?" Mulder asked. 

  "The truth wasn't that simple. I was a good student, but if I
was so traditional, how come I ended up in the X-Files Office?"
She countered. "Melissa and I were different people certainly,
but we neither of us, when it comes right down to it, followed
the path that our parents wanted or expected from us."

  "Unlike your brothers," Mulder observed. 

  Scully half-nodded, "That's more true of Bill than Charles,
but that wasn't my point. I think that we," she gestured between
the two of them, "have this myth that lies between us that I'm
the more closed mouth of the two of us, when we're both guilty
of the behavior."

  "I know I'm guilty of it, Scully," he said. "That's part of
the reason I wanted to come here. I want you to know these
things about me, want you to know where I came from. All I'm
saying is that I want to know these things about you, too." 

  "I'm trying, Mulder," she said. "I really am. I promise you
that if a good familial anecdote surfaces, I'll tell you, OK?"
She stared up at him until he smiled at her.

  "OK," he said, then placed his hands on her shoulders to turn
her around. Several yards away, there was a naked body lying on
a blanket. 
 
  "Told ya," Mulder said.

  "Mulder, one naked guy is hardly proof of widespread up-island
nudism," she chided coolly. She'd seen far too many corpses to
be impressed or offended by the nudity of a random beachgoer.
Mulder looked faintly disappointed at her response and she
chuckled lightly, then took his hand and began walking the
shoreline again. "So, your grandmother's last name was Fox?" she
asked.

  "Not exactly," he answered. "It was Fuchs, but my father
decided to have a little mercy on me and anglicize it. I can't
imagine how many beatings I would have had to dispense in
elementary school if my name had been spelled like that. Hey
'Fucks'!" he began yelling as she giggled and tried to shush
him, since there were children nearby. "Fox was bad enough,
thanks," he said in a rueful tone.
  
  "It must have been an excellent name to have in the '70s,"
Scully pointed out helpfully.

  "Oh yeah," Mulder said, then added, "wicked excellent", in a
nasal New England accent that made her giggle again.  They
picked their way around a rocky outcropping and came around a
bend to where a volleyball game was taking place. Scully was
startled to see that the server was a rather famous defense
attorney. He was wearing a Harvard sweatshirt, but seemed to
have forgotten to put any pants on. His teammates were all
similarly attired.

  "Mulder," she said after a moment. "In this one particular
instance, I really could have foregone the proof." 

  He was chuckling at her words. "Is that for the record?" he
asked.

  "Definitely," she said with a shudder.