Title: "Something Fishy" Author: Angela W. < tapw63@yahoo.com > Category: Crossover ("The X-Files" and "JAG") Summary: F.B.I. Agents Mulder and Scully meet JAG officers Rabb and MacKenzie; the four of them try to solve mysterious deaths aboard a U.S. Navy Aircraft Carrier. Rated: R Disclaimer: Nobody mentioned in this entire story belongs to me. Mulder, Scully and anybody else from "The X-Files" are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. Mac, Harm and anybody else from "JAG" are the property of Donald Belisarius. Relationship Status/Timespan/Spoilers: Mac and Harm have pretty much the same relationship they have on the show; Mulder and Scully have drifted off into some alternate universe of my own creation where they are married to each other. Takes place after the end of Season Four for "JAG" and Season Six for "The X-Files". Spoilers for the JAG episode "Second Sight" and "The X-Files Movie" as well as the XF ep "Arcadia". Feedback: I belong to the "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all," school of feedback. In other words, if you LOVE it please tell me! If you mostly like it, but feel one or two areas are a little weak, go ahead tell me. If you hate it, maintain an eloquent silence. Archive: Feel free to archive anywhere! The Navy Captain looked at the two young JAG officers standing before him. Lt. Commander Harm Rabb and Major Sarah MacKenzie. Rabb had a reputation of being a bit of a hothead, but Mac was all Marine. "You've been apprised of the situation, officers?" "Yes, sir," answered Rabb. "But I'm afraid this sort of thing is a bit out of our jurisdiction. The unexplained nature of the deaths leave us at a bit of a loss as to how to proceed." "I realize that," the Captain replied. "That's why I contacted an old buddy of mine. We worked together in 'Nam, when he was a Marine and I was a Seal. He's now an Assistant Director at the F.B.I. It seems they have a small division that specializes in these sort of cases. Two agents from the division will be joining you on the investigation." "Their names, sir?" Mac asked. "A Special Agent Fox Mulder and a Special Agent. . .Dana Scully. That's odd." "What, sir?" "We have a Lieutenant Charles Scully on board. And Walter mentioned that one of the agents is from a Naval family. I wonder if they're related." The Captain flipped an intercom and asked for Lieutenant Charles Scully to report to his quarters. A few minutes later a handsome young Naval officer appeared. He was in his early 30s and just slightly below average height. "Sir?" he asked after saluting smartly. "Lieutenant, these are JAG officers who are investigating some of the unusual circumstances aboard ship. Lt. Commander Rabb and Major MacKenzie." "Sir. Ma'am," the officer responded, but seemed slightly puzzled. "The officers will be assisted by two F.B.I. agents who have some experience in these sort of matters," the Captain said, then watched understanding dawn on the younger officer's face. "One of the agents has the same last name as you do. Are you related to a Special Agent Dana Scully?" The Lieutenant gave a brief smile and replied. "My sister, sir." "Are you familiar with her partner, Special Agent Fox Mulder?" "My brother-in-law, sir." "The agents are married to each other?" Rabb asked. "I didn't think the F.B.I. permitted agents in the same division to marry each other, any more than the military allowed marriages between officers in the same chain of command." "Permission to speak freely, sir?" the Lieuteant asked. "Lieutenant, we'd be quite pleased if you'd explain the situation. I was under the same impression as Lt. Commander Rabb," the Captain replied. Charles cleared his throat and began. "My sister and Agent Mulder have worked together as partners for several years. They only got married a few months ago. Like you, sirs, I had assumed that one or both of them would have to be reassigned because of the marriage. However, while the F.B.I. does have policies similar to the military when it comes to marriages among its personnel, apparently individual supervisors have a bit more leeway when it comes to granting exemptions to those policies. Dana and Mulder investigate cases that, from what I gather, nobody else in the bureau particularly wants to take on or is as well-qualified to deal with. So their boss granted them a temporary exemption to the policy prohibiting married couples from working as partners. As I understand it, one of the conditions of their continued partnership was that they maintain a certain amount of discretion as to the exact nature of their personal relationship. My sister hasn't changed her name, they don't wear their wedding rings while at work and they refrain from public displays of affection. Their immediate supervisor knows of their marriage, of course, as do a couple of other bureau employees, but it's not widely-known. Dana said it's similar to the military's "don't ask, don't tell" policy. She and her husband never lie about their personal relationship, but they don't make a point of advertising it, either." "Apart from their personal relationship, what can you tell us about their professional background?" Mac asked. "Dana's a medical doctor; a forensic pathologist," Charles said. "She does a lot of lab work, autopsies, things like that. Before she joined the X-Files, she taught out at Quantico. Mulder's a psychologist; specifically, a profiler." "According to his supervisor, he's one of the best - quite possibly THE best - profiler the bureau has," the Captain added. "So between them," Rabb said slowly, "they ought to be able to figure out not only what's causing these deaths, but who or at least why?" "That's what we're hoping," the Captain agreed. "About my mentioning their personal relationship," Charles said. "If it's all the same to you, I think perhaps they'd prefer it if you didn't bring that up, sir." "I'm not sure they would want me to behave as if I have no knowledge of their marriage, Lieutenant, especially if they're newlyweds. After all, they may be on board the ship for as long as a week. You know your sister and her husband better than I do, of course, but don't you think they'd prefer to be assigned married couple quarters?" "Yes, sir," Charles answered, biting back a small smile. Unlike his older brother Bill, Charles approved of the changes in attitude Mulder had brought about in his sister. Dana had always been so prim and proper, unlike the easy-going Melissa. With her husband, she tended to relax more. "One more question, Lieutenant," Mac said. "Ma'am?" "I noticed that when you were talking about them, you referred to your sister by her first name but your brother-in-law by his last name. Why is that?" "He prefers it, ma'am. I think the only people he allows to call him "Fox" are Dana and our mother and his own mother. Even Dana calls him Mulder sometimes. I mean, they use last names exclusively when they're working, but she calls him by his last name sometimes even in their off hours." "Sounds a little like someone I know," Harm drawled with a twinkling glance at Mac. She didn't bother to point out that *he* was the only one who insisted on calling her "Mac" rather than "Sarah". In a rented car pulling out of the parking lot of a Florida airport, Scully's cell phone rang. "Scully," she said as she answered. After a minute or so of her saying, "Yes, sir," and "Yes, I did know that was my brother's ship" and "I see, sir," she hung up.' "What was that all about?" Mulder asked as he pulled onto an interstate. "Skinner. It appears we're busted, so to speak." "What do you mean?" "Remember, I told you it was Charles' ship." "Yeah. So?" "Well, apparently the Captain picked up on the fact that we had the same last name and called Charles in to give him and the JAG officers some background on us. Charles gave them ALL the information he had; regarding both our professional backgrounds and our personal relationship." "You mean he let it slip that we're married?" "Yep." "Is that going to be a problem?" "Skinner didn't seem to think so. I got the impression that he was more amused by the situation than anything else," Scully replied. "Besides, the fact that most everybody involved knows that we're married will have some advantages." "Such as?" "Mulder, it's a ship! They don't have rooms with connecting doors, like most of the motels we stay in. And who knows how long we'll be on it? We'll most likely be assigned officers' quarters, which means two to a room. If they didn't know we're married, you'd most like be sharing quarters with a Naval officer and I'd probably be bunking with the female half of the JAG team. Since they know we're married. . " "We'll get to share?" "Hopefully," Scully said with a smile. She reached up and unfastened the longer of the two necklaces she wore. It held their wedding rings, which she usually wore suspended between her breasts during their working hours. Now she slipped hers on and then reached over and slid the other one onto her husband's outstretched hand. Mulder and Scully flashed their I.D. and were waved into the Naval base and given directions toward the chopper pad. "Gee, being welcomed onto a military base is kind of a different feeling," Mulder said. "We didn't have to sneak onto the base when we spent Christmas with Bill and Tara," Scully pointed out. "Yeah," agreed her husband, "but can you actually say Bill made me feel welcome?" Scully giggled a little at that. Bill had reluctantly come to terms with his younger sister's marriage, but she doubted he would ever really like Mulder. "Well, this is Charles' ship we're going to." "He's my favorite brother-in-law." "That would make Bill your second favorite. You only have two." "Not neccesarily. You know I believe Samantha's still alive, somewhere. If she's married, then I'd probably prefer her husband's company over Bill's." Scully sighed and rolled her eyes. Luckily, the chopper ride didn't last long. The ship was only about a dozen miles out to sea. It had originally been slated to dock today, but the Captain had decided not to pull into port until a cause for the deaths on board could be determined; it was possible some or all of the crew would need to quarantined. Even the brief ride left Mulder green around the gills. It had taken Scully a long time to realize that the reason Mulder almost always insisted on driving was not due to some latant male chauvinism lurking in his psyche, but was because he often got car sick when someone else was behind the wheel. He had the same reaction to helicopters and small boats. He handled jets all right, though, so she was willing to bet the relatively smooth sailing of a large aircraft carrier wouldn't disturb him, either. The F.B.I. agents were shown into the Captain's quarters and introduced to the JAG officers. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, this is Lt. Commander Harm Rabb and Major Sarah MacKenzie; officers, this is Special Agent Fox Mulder and Special Agent Dana Scully. I trust the four of you will work well together," the Captain said. "I'll leave you now, so you can compare notes." Mulder reached out to shake hands first with the other man, then with the woman. Scully completed the process in reverse, murmuring, "Pleased to meet you." Mac allowed herself the tiniest of smiles after shaking hands with the agents. It was the look in Mulder's eyes, rather than the ring on his finger, that shouted "married!" Mac wasn't vain, but as a woman in what was still predominantly a man's world, she was used to catching at least a flicker of interest in the majority of men with whom she came in contact. This man, however, seemed more interested in making sure Harm wasn't taking an undue interest in Scully. Harm caught the look Mulder was giving him and kept his handshake with Scully so brief it was barely cordial. Must be nice to be able to be so openly possessive of your partner and know you weren't going to get your ass chewed out for it, he thought. "What are we dealing with here?" Mulder asked. "The only thing our boss told us was mysterious deaths." "I don't know that we can tell you much more," Harm replied. "There have been four deaths aboard this vessel in the past ten days. All young, apparently healthy Sailors. So far, the Navy docs have been unable to determine a cause of death; they've been ruled suspicious, which is where we come in. But it's possible there is some yet-to-be determined organic cause for them." "I notice that all the fatalities are men," Scully said. "Aren't there women on the ship as well?" "Yes," answered Mac, "but they comprise barely 20 percent of the crew. I don't think we can necessarily assume that all the victims will continue to be men. It's quite possible that, statistically, it just so happened that the first four were men." "What are the other similarities among the dead men?" Mulder asked. "Only the sort of similarities that you'd find among nearly all the Sailors on the ship," Harm answered. "Three were white; one was black. They were all roughly in the same age group: mid-20s to early 30s. All were unmarried; three were single, one divorced." "Were the four of them close friends? Had they recently gone on shore leave together or anything?" Scully inquired. "It doesn't say," Mac replied, scanning her notes. "Why?" "Well, it's just an emerging theory at this point," Scully said, "but my first assumption would be that they ingested some sort of slow-acting toxin. It couldn't be something they ate or drank here on ship, or you'd be dealing with a plethora of deaths, not just a few. But if they all went to the same restaurant or bar while they were on shore leave, that could account for it." "The deaths have occurred over a period of more than a week," Harm pointed out. "Wouldn't that rule out something all of them ate at the same time?" "Not neccesarily," Scully said. "It could depend on how much they ate, their weights, their metabolism; a lot of different factors that would vary by individual." "Let me see those autopsy reports again," Mulder said, reaching across the table. He scanned the documents quickly, then nodded. "I think you're onto something, Scully. The first victim had the lowest weight of all of them, and the latest victim was the heaviest." A knock on the door interupted them. It was Charles and, after he had greeted Dana and Mulder, he said, "I know you're working; I just dropped by to say hello. I'll leave now." "Unless you have pressing duty, Lieutenant, we'd appreciate it if you'd stay," Harm said. "We're going to have to begin interviewing the Sailors aboard ship sometime soon, and as long as you're here we might as well start with you." "Harm, certainly you're not planning on interviewing all 4,000 of the ship's personnel!" Mac exclaimed. "That would be about a thousand for each of us," Mulder drawled. "If we managed thirty interviews a day, we'd be finished sometime about the middle of next month." Harm snorted. "Of course I'm not planning on talking to everyone. But we might as well ask the Lieutenant if he knew any of the victims." Dana handed her brother the list. He scanned it quickly and pointed to one of the names. "This one, for sure. He was one of the mechanics on the crew that serviced my plane. I don't recognize any of the other names and none of them were officers, so I wouldn't have fraternized with them. That's not to say I didn't pass them on the corridors or on deck; I probably did and I might recognize their faces if I saw them." "Charles, is there anything you can tell us about the victim you knew?" Dana asked. "Where he was from, what kind of food he liked, what kind of music he liked, whether he was hot-tempered or easy-going, talkative or quiet!" "Any insight you could give us into his personality would help," Mulder agreed. "It would also help if you happen to be aware of the last time and place he had shore leave." "I really didn't know him well; he was a competent mechanic with a good attitude," Charles replied. "But I can find the crew chief and bring him here; he was the Sailor's direct supervisor and would be able to tell you a lot more about his personal life." "Please do so, Lieutenant," Mac said. "Scully," she said and Charles and Dana both said, "Yes?" "Why don't you just call me Dana," Dana suggested. "Otherwise, we're going to confuse ourselves, dealing with two people named Scully." "Good idea," Mac replied. "You and Mulder can call me Sarah or Mac; either one is fine." "So long as nobody suggests calling me Fox," Mulder put in. "We already heard from your brother-in-law about your aversion to your first name," Harm replied. Soon after Charles left, the Captain returned. "There's been another death. Agent Scully, could we prevail upon you to perform the autopsy?" "I'll be happy to," Dana agreed. "Mulder, why don't you and the JAG officers meet me down there in a couple of hours? Maybe I'll have some answers for you, or at least be able to give you some idea of what sort of questions we should be asking." "Sounds good," Mulder agreed. Several hours later, Mulder and Charles met up with Dana in the ship's sick bay. "Where are Mac and her partner?" Dana asked. "I left them interviewing some of the Sailors who knew the victims," Mulder replied. "We're going to meet up and compare notes over dinner." "Dinner's in less than an hour," Charles added. "I'll show the two of you to your quarters. Dana, do you think you'll be able to eat?" "Sure, I'm starved. Why?" "I just wondered," her brother mumbled. "Since you just did the autopsy and all." Dana laughed softly and replied. "I'm sorry if I sound insensitive, Chuck, but if I didn't have a stomach strong enough to hold down food after performing an autopsy, I'd have starved to death long before now." "It never bothers you?" "Occasionally it does," Dana answered with a sigh. "If the death has been especially brutal or if the victim is a child. But this one was more puzzling than gorey." "Okay, well, here you are," Charles said, gesturing to a door. "I had a Seaman bring in your bags. It's not the Hilton, but it'll have to do." "Compared to some of the places we've stayed over the years, I'm sure it will be fine," Mulder said. When they had entered the room, however, he gave a gulp of disbelief. "Scully, it has separate twin beds! I feel like I just walked into a rerun of 'The Dick Van Dyke Show'!" She giggled at that. "Oh, shall we go back to calling each other Rob and Laura Petrie?" she asked, giving the surname the pronunciation they'd used when they'd gone undercover as a married couple before they were actually married. "Oh, you're funny! How are we going to sleep?" "You figure that out! I'm going to take a quick shower before we meet the JAG officers for dinner." A few minutes later, she emerged from the tiny bathroom wrapped in a skimpy towel. Chuck was right, she mused, the Hilton it wasn't. Of course, Mulder was right, too. Compared to some of the places she and her husband had stayed over the years, an aircraft carrier wasn't bad. At least everything was clean. "Want a backrub?" Mulder asked moving to stand behind her. He ran his hands gently down her arms and bent his head to kiss her neck. "Mmm. Maybe. But *after* I put my clothes on. You tend to get distracted easily." "Scully, my powers of concentration are legendary. I do *not* get distracted easily!" Dana didn't argue, she simply smiled at him and dropped the towel, then walked slowly over to her suitcase, where she bent down to remove a clean outfit. "You were saying?" she murmured, looking up at her husband. "That I get distracted easily," he replied. As soon as Scully was dressed, however, there was a knock at the door. She and Mulder exchanged quick "maybe later" smiles as she went to open it. Mac was standing outside waiting for them. "Come on," Mac said to the agents. "Harm and I discovered something in the interviews that we want to see if you think jibes with what you found during the autopsy." Over dinner, Mac and Harm explained what they had discovered. All five of the victims had shared one key characteristic. While the majority of the Sailors on board tended to prefer American food and looked for a McDonald's or the nearest equivalent wherever they had shore leave, these five were budding gourmets who tended to seek out the most exotic native cuisine they could find. "We've established that the first and third victims were buddies; it's almost certain that they probably went to the same restaurant together," Harm said. "We haven't actually linked the other three yet, but it seems likely that they might have frequented the same establishment." "But wouldn't the food have passed through their digestive systems long before now?" Mulder asked. "Not necessarily," Scully replied. "Traces elements cans sometime linger for weeks. Perhaps something they ate later, on board, acted as a catalyst. It's possible for two substances that are each harmless alone to react in such a way that they become toxic when mixed together." "Here's another idea," Mac said. "What if they brought something edible back to the ship with them? A box of candy or something like that they've been nibbling on ever since." "It's a thought," Mulder agreed. "Do you think that after dinner we could get permission from the Captain to search the Sailors' belongings? If Mac's right, we might actually find some of the food still in their quarters." "And now that I have a clue as to what I might be looking for, I can go back and run some tests," Scully said. It was late when Scully finally returned to the temporary quarters she and Mulder had been assigned, but her husband wasn't in yet. She knew he was somewhere on the ship, probably with the JAG officers. She'd spent the last few hours hunched over a microscope. Now that she was almost certain she was looking for some sort of toxin, she had been able to fine tune her search. And she'd found a strange substance in the bloodwork of all five victims. Scully rolled her shoulders, remembering Mulder's previous offer of a backrub. Where was that man and his magic fingers when she really needed him? Scully had changed into her nightshirt and was brushing her teeth when she heard the outer door open. "Mulder? Is that you?" "You were expecting, maybe, some Flyboy Sailor, Scully?" "What did you and the JAG officers discover?" "Something that may be significant. We found a matchbook from the same restaurant in two of the Sailors' rooms. So far it's the best lead we have. The restaurant is located in the port where the ship last docked." "Good. What's our next move?" "We're meeting Mac and Harm in," Mulder stretched his arm and looked at his watch, "slightly less than six hours to discuss that. We decided that all of us needed some sleep so we could think straight before formulating strategy." Mulder moved toward the bed where his suitcase was located and began undressing. Scully sat down to watch. She'd never thought of herself as being particularly easy to arouse visually - most women weren't - but seeing her husband take off his clothes was something she never grew tired of. Mulder caught her watching and grinned. She smiled back, refusing to be embarrassed by the fact that she enjoyed the sight of her husband's body. When he was down to his heather gray boxer-briefs, Mulder crossed the room and kissed her. Long, slow and deep. Scully had assumed that after a few months of marriage, including sleeping together every night, that simply being kissed by Mulder would lose its effect on her. But that hadn't happened yet. "You need a backrub," Mulder informed her when they finally came up for air. "I'm fine, Mulder." "Trust me, Scully. You *need* a backrub." "Um, okay," she said. Scully stretched out on her stomach on one of the narrow beds, while Mulder flicked out the lights. She felt him settle down on her, straddling her hips but distributing his weight evenly between his knees and her bottom so as not to press too heavily upon her. Then she felt his hands on the tight muscles knotted between her shoulder blades. As Mulder's fingers worked out her aches, Scully gave a soft moan of pleasure. While the massage was making her practically grow limp, it was having exactly the opposite effect on her husband - or at least on one part of his anatomy! "You know, Mulder," she murmured, "this feels really good. But I think it would feel even better if your fingers were directly on my skin." "Think so, huh?" he said, leaning down to whisper into her ear. "That could probably be arranged." Scully shifted her hips so that Mulder could pull the satiny material of her sleep shirt free and run his fingers up the bare skin of her back. Mulder smiled as he settled down more comfortably into his former position. The sleep shirt Scully wore when they travelled on bureau business was demure enough, but she never wore anything under it! Once he could tell that her muscles were relaxed, Mulder changed his touch from a massage to a caress. He brushed his fingertips lightly down the sides of her breasts, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from his wife. Mulder leaned down to kiss her, rubbing his arousal against her at the same time. "Wanna roll over?" he murmured. "No," she whispered back. "No?" he asked, confused and disappointed. If Dana really wasn't in the mood he wouldn't push her, of course, and they had had a long day. But, except for the few nights of the month when nature demanded they take a break, this was the first time she'd ever told him no. Sensing his confusion, Scully slid her hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. "What I meant," she clarified, "is that this position is fine." "You're sure?" he asked, slightly surprised. Normally she preferred a position where they were face-to-face. They'd made love like this a few times before, but usually only as a a sort of "second helping" on long, lazy afternoons when they'd already climaxed another way and had worked up the stamina to try again. She certainly never been the one to *suggest* this way before . "Mmmhmm," she murmured. Mulder slid off her body just long enough to remove his shorts, then resumed his former position. He placed one hand alongside her head to steady himself and used the other hand to lift her hips just a little so he could ease into her body. He gave a low groan of pleasure as he slipped in. She was so hot and so wet. And so incredibly tight, especially from this angle. He moved his fingers purposefully just about the spot where they were joined and heard her answering whimper of desire. Their climaxes came quickly, for both of them. After a few minutes of afterglow cuddling and kissing, Dana felt her husband slide off the bed and heard him slip his shorts back on, then cross the room. She stifled a sigh. She supposed there really wasn't room for both of them in this bed, but having him leave - even if it was only to the other side of the room - so soon after their lovemaking was mildly disappointing. A moment later she was swooped up into his arms. "Where are we going?" she asked. "To the other bed," he said with a smile she could sense even in the darkness. "No wet spot." "Are you sure they'll be room for both of us to sleep comfortably?" "I'm sure of one thing," he said, settling down on his back with his wife half to the side and half on top of him, "I won't be able to sleep at all if you're way over there." "I love you," she whispered against his skin. "Love you, too. G'night." Mac and Harm stood on the bridge of the ship, at the point where they'd agreed to meet the F.B.I. agents. "They're late," Mac said, stating the obvious. "Maybe they got lost," Harm suggested. "After all, it's a big ship, and they're not Navy officers or even Marines. It's not like they could have gone far." "I doubt they got lost, Harm," Mac said, rolling her eyes. Personally, she was wondering if Agent Scully had found a new development so startling that she'd dragged Mulder down to the lab and forgotten all about their appointment with the JAG officers. "Maybe they decided to go for a morner," Harm offered. "What's a 'morner'?" Mac asked. "Like a nooner, only sooner," Harm replied. It took Mac a moment to get the joke, then she swatted Harm lightly on the arm. "You're one sick puppy, Sailor!" "Why? All I suggested was that, as a married couple, the agents might be indulging in. . .marital relations. That makes me sick?" "Shh! Here they come," Mac answered. Mac and Harm smiled as the two agents hurried over. "Sorry we're late," Scully said. "As embarrassing as it is for me to have to admit this, we got turned around." "Oh, I know it's easy to get lost on a ship this size," Mac said, shooting a quick I-told-you-so glance at her partner. "So, can we get some breakfast and discuss strategy?" Harm asked. Over coffee, the agents and officers discussed what they'd discovered so far. "Under ordinary circumstances, I would say the next logical step would be for us to go to the restaurant, show the employees pictures of the sailors, see if any of the local population has recently exhibited similar symptoms, things like that," Mulder said. "Of course, since we're on a ship and the restaurant is nearly a thousand miles away, I'm not sure if that's feasible." "Actually, it is," Harm said. "I've already discussed that possibilty with the Captain." "Harm, please don't tell me you're thinking what I think you're thinking," Mac said. "I'm a pilot, Mac!" he replied. "It's been cleared with the Captain. The only question is: which one of the agents is going with me?" "Whoa, wait a minute," Scully said. "You're a *pilot*, Harm? I was under the impression that you were a lawyer!" Harm sighed. "I'm a licensed pilot. I can no longer be assigned duty as a Naval Aviator because I suffer from night-blindness, but I've kept up my skills by piloting private planes on a regular basis. As long as we make it to the port and back to the ship during daylight hours - and I don't see why that would be a problem - the Captain's agreed to let me use one of the fighter planes. It is official Navy business, after all." "Do you have doubts about your partner's ability to pilot a plane safely, Mac?" Mulder asked. "None at all," Mac replied. "I've flown with him before and probably will again." "So I guess the only question really is which one of us should accompany you, Harm," Scully said. "We'll need to leave within the hour," Harm said. "I want to give myself plenty of leeway. I don't want a JFK-Junior type scenario where I end up crashing into the open sea due to impeding darkness and over confidence." Mulder glanced at his wife. "Could we have a few minutes to discuss this privately?" he asked the officers. "Sure," Harm said. "Meet us back up on deck whenever you're ready." As soon as the JAG officers had left, Mulder and Scully both said, in unison, "I think I should be the one to go with Harm." "Why?" Mulder asked first. "Well, for one thing, we know that small boats on choppy seas tend to give you motion sickness. I'm not sure that a small plane would be a much better scenario; in fact, it might be worse. Also, Mulder, I'm presuming we've reached the point where even *you* are willing to concede that there's nothing particularly bizarre or supernatural about these deaths? It's basically a medical mystery and I'm a medical doctor. Why do you think you should be the one to go?" "Same reason you said, except I think it applies in reverse. You need to stay here where you have access to research equipment. I realize a ship's sick bay is hardly equivalent to the labs at Quantico, but you might be able to find out something if you can go back over your findings with microscopes and computers. You're not likely to come to any new conclusions ten thousand feet in the air. And, yes, for the record, I'm willing to agree that this doesn't really qualify as an X-File. Unless we find some sort of proof that the restaurant owners are deliberately poisoninig American military personnel, it won't even qualify as a crime; I'm sure there is a logical, scientific, rational explanation for these deaths." "Mulder, I never thought I'd live to hear the day when I'd hear you say that!" "So we're agreed? You'll stay here with Mac and I'll go out to the island with Harm?" "I guess. Are you sure that's the entire reason you don't want me flying with Harm?" "What? Are you thinking that maybe I'm either worried about your safety or jealous that Flyboy will make a pass at you if he gets you alone?" "Maybe a little." Mulder smiled. "Maybe I am a little bit of both. Worried and jealous. Although, come to think of it, I don't suppose leaving you on a ship with a whole bunch of Sailors is going to ease my mind on the second half of that equation." "So, what? I get to worry about your physical safety and you get to worry about some Navy guy coming on to me?" "Something like that." "Mulder, I grew up on Naval bases! If I could handle myself around groups of horny Sailors when I was seventeen, I can damn sure do it now that I'm twice that age!" "Okay, Scully," he said, then reached out to trace his fingertips down her cheek. "You just be careful with our pilot-turned-lawyer friend. And watch what you eat!" As Mulder and Scully emerged back on deck, they spotted the JAG officers. "I'll be the one going with you," Mulder told Harm. "Let's do it, then," Harm said. "We've been okayed to take this plane right here." "Harm," Mac said, and then hesitated, "be careful, okay? And be sure to be back way before dusk!" "Mac, you're giving Agent Scully and Agent Mulder the wrong impression. It's not like he's risking his life flying with me! I'm not going to be doing anything fancy." "I know, I just. . .I wish I were the one going with you!" "Why, Mac?" "I'm sure Mulder is a fine agent, but nobody can watch your back like I can. For all we know, there is some psychotic cook or something on that island who bears a horrible grudge against American Naval Officers!" Harm chuckled lightly. "I think it more likely has to do with third world hygiene standards. . .or a lack thereof. I have my doubts about your killer chef theory!" "Come on over to the other side of the plane for a minute." "Okay, why are we over here?" Harm asked after they had ducked under the nose of the plane and were standing on the other side. "To give Agent Scully and Agent Mulder a chance to say goodbye." "What, they have to give each other the secret F.B.I. handshake or something and we can't be witness to it?" "Harm," Mac said with sigh, "I realize your father was declared MIA when you were quite young, but don't you have *any* idea how married people tell each other goodbye when they're going to be apart for more than a couple of hours? Especially if they're newlyweds?" "Oh. Well, I hope they can be quick about it. We haven't got all day." Mac smiled softly. "Do you ever wonder why everybody's married but us?" "Are you proposing, Marine?" Mac blushed slightly. "Of course not! I just meant we usually work so closely with Bud and Harriet and *they're* married. Now we end up being teamed with what is, apparently, the F.B.I.'s one-and-only pair of agents who happen to be both partners and a married couple." On the other side of the plane, Mulder made a lightning-quick risk assessment. On the one hand, Skinner had agreed to their continued professional partnership only on the condition that they be discreet about their personal relationship and kissing Scully in full view of the JAG officers and any of the ship's crew that happened to be walking past would hardly be that! On the other hand, she was his wife, she was clearly a bit nervous about sending him off in a small plane with a pilot-turned-lawyer and, damn it, he *wanted* to kiss her goodbye! Mulder had never been one to play it safe. He placed his hands on Scully's waist, gave a gentle tug so that their bodies were in full contact, and bent his mouth to hers. It wasn't a particularly passionate kiss, but one that expressed tenderness and love. "Bye, sweetheart," he whispered. "See you late this afternoon." "Goodbye," she murmured as he climbed into the cockpit. After Mulder and Harm had taken off, Scully returned to the lab. For lack of a better way to spend her time, Mac accompanied her. "What are you looking for?" Mac asked her. "A needle in a haystack, is what it amounts to," Scully replied. "If I was back at the Quantico labs, I might be able to run a microscopic spectrum analysis but with this equipment I don't know that I'll find anything more than I already have." "Can I ask you something sort of. . .personal?" Mac inquired tentatively. "Sure, Mac. What?" "You and Mulder. . . being married and being partners. Does that. . .work?" "Better than I ever imagined it would," Scully replied. "When we first got married, I was sort of worried about it. It's not at all unusual for us to have professional disagreements and I was worried that we'd take them home with us. Our boss expressed similar reservations. But it's been wonderful! It's so nice not to have to say goodbye to each other every night, like we had to before we got married; it's equally nice not to have to say goodbye to each other every morning, like most married couples do. When you think about it, really, the idea that people should keep their personal and professional lives totally separate is a quite modern concept. For most of human history, husbands and wives worked side-by-side - farming, or running a Mom-and-Pop type business, or whatever. We're just doing putting a new spin on an old idea." Mac smiled. "I guess that's one way of looking at it." By early afternoon, Scully has isolated an enzyme that she thought might be the cause of the deaths. It was similar to a toxin submitted by Japanese blowfish. Once the men landed, Mulder put in a call to Scully and she shared the information with him. Mulder and Harm soon located the restaurant in question. It didn't take long for the two men to determine that all the Sailors had, indeed, consumed a local delicacy. One which the natives had apparently developed a natural immunity to, but which could, in large doses, prove fatal to those unused to it. "Well, I say we find someplace to grab a bite of lunch - not this place, for sure - then head back to the ship," Harm suggested. "We can file a report with the Captain and he can explain the nature of the deaths to the families. I don't think there was any intent to harm, do you, Agent Mulder?" "As best as I could determine, no," agreed Mulder. "I suppose Scully and I could come back here and launch a full-scale investigation into the restaurant owner; see if he was known to harbor a grudge against the American military or something, but if your asking for my assessment based on what we know right now I'd say the whole situation is just sad, not criminal." "It's possible the families may want to sue the restaurant owner in civil court," Harm said. "However, since they weren't on duty at the time they became infected it would be a matter for civilian attorneys, not the JAG corps." As they ate - at a McDonald's - Harm asked, "What led to you joining the F.B.I., anyway?" Mulder sighed. "When I was twelve, my sister disappeared. She was eight. We just woke up one morning and she was gone. No note, nothing. I've never known what happened to her. I guess that's why I joined the bureau. During my years there, I've been able to investigate some cases that are remarkably similar to hers, but I haven't ever found any definitive proof of what happened to her." "I know how tough not knowing can be," Harm said. "Really?" Mulder asked, attempting to raise his eyebrow in an imitation of his wife's sceptical look. "Yes," Harm replied quietly. "My father was also a Naval officer, a chopper pilot. He was declared MIA in Vietnam when I was seven. His name's on the wall, but I've never really known. . .for years I had fantasies of being reunited with him. I guess that's why I became a Naval officer myself. I always had the feeling the military knew more than they were telling about Dad's disappearance and I suppose I thought if I was actually on the inside, so to speak, I'd have a better chance of finding the truth." Mulder was surprised. It was strange to think he'd found a kindred spirit in a Naval officer, considering all the problems he'd had with the military in the past. "This is kind of changing the subject, but I sensed some vibes between you and Mac. It's not really any of my business, but is something personal going on between you two?" "No," Harm said quickly. "I mean, sure, there's an attraction. I'm a man, she's a woman and we spend a lot of our time together. But the military expressly forbids intimate relationships between officers in the same chain of command. I suppose the bureau does, too, but with agents the worst they could do is fire one or both of you. With us, a court martial would be a very real possibility. Although. . ." "What?" Mulder asked. "I recently has some surgery that could, possibly, allow me to regain my designation as a Naval Aviator. It has occurred to me that there would be personal, as well as professional, repercussions to no longer being assigned to the JAG Corps." "I see," Mulder replied. Shortly after lunch, the two men took off heading back to ship through a cloudless blue sky. Hours later, Mac and Scully were in the temporary quarters assigned to the F.B.I. agents when a knock sounded on the door. Dana opened it to find her brother there. "Hi, Charles! Come on in. Or did you come to tell us that the plane's approaching?" Charles stepped in and sighed. What he had to say wasn't easy, but he had been adamant that he be the one to give the news to his sister. "No, the plane's not approaching yet. In fact. . .they've lost radio contact with it." "What?" Mac asked. "The radio room received a transmission from Harm about fifteen minutes ago. They ran into what's called a white squall. A storm that seems to arise, quite literally, from nowhere. It's the worst nightmare of any Naval pilot. Since then. . .we haven't been able to reestablish radio contact." "Oh, my God!" Dana said. "Harm said he lost his designation as an aviator because he suffers from night blindness. A storm of the magnitude you're describing. . .wouldn't that be almost the same as flying in the dark?" Charles nodded and drew his sister into his embrace. She was the older, but at the moment he felt as though she were his little sister, in need of whatever comfort he could give her. "Dana," Mac said softly. "What Harm *didn't* tell you was that he recently had some surgery that seems to have corrected his vision problems. He's scheduled to go through a medical evaluation next week and may possibly apply to be designated an aviator again." "But you don't know for sure?" Dana asked softly. "We don't know for sure," Mac agreed. Over an hour later, the three of them were still in the agents' quarters. Charles had left only briefly, to order one of the Sailors in the radio room to report to him immediately if they had any transmission from Harm's plane. "Dana," he said softly, "even in a worse case scenario, where the plane went down, that doesn't mean there's no hope. The plane is equipped with all kinds of survival equipment; flotation devices, emergency rations, homing beacons. We're in a semi-tropical climate, which means that the temperature of the water would increase their chances of hanging on until a rescue party could find them. And a crash over open water is actually more likely to result in survivors than a land crash." "It's almost dark," Dana said. "I guess, in some ways, maybe now we should be hoping that they *have* crashed, rather than thinking that maybe Harm is out there somewhere, miles off course, trying to fly a plane in the gathering dusk." "When he lost his designation. . .it was because he crashed a plane while attempting to land it after dark," Mac said. "His radio intercept officer was killed." "That remark was uncalled for, Major!" Charles snapped. "Get out of here." He was treading on thin ice because a Marine Major and a Navy Lieutenant were of equal rank. He didn't really have the authority to issue an order to Major MacKenzie. But it was his ship and Dana was his sister and he was damned if he was going to have some hotshot JAG officer upsetting her even more than she already was. He was surprised when Mac neither obeyed the order nor challenged his authority to issue it. Instead, she apologized. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to make you feel worse, Dana." "I know. It's okay, Charles. I know you're trying to take care of me and I appreciate that. But she's worried, too." Charles sighed. "I'll got back down to the radio room and see if there's any news. Back in a few minutes." He kissed Dana briefly on the forehead before leaving. After Charles had left, Mac apologized again. "I really am sorry, Dana. What you said, about me being worried too, that's true. But it must be worse for you. After all, Mulder is your *husband*. Harm's just. . .I mean it's not like he and I. . . " Dana gave a small smile. "Are you sure about that, Mac? You're not really behaving like a military officer who's concerned about a fellow officer or even like a person who's worried about a friend. You're acting just like I am; like you're a woman who's scared to death she may have lost the man she loves." "It's not like that between Harm and me," Mac repeated. But her voice lacked conviction. "I'm not accusing you two of any sort of. . .impropriety. I grew up in a Naval family; I am aware of the prohbitions concerning romantic relationships between officers in the same chain of command. But those rules apply to what you do; they don't effect how you feel. The bureau has rules, too. Maybe not quite as stringent, but definitely there. For a long, long time I fought against the feelings I had for my partner. Because I believed in the rules. I was a woman trying to make it in a man's world; the last thing I needed was to get in a situation where my romantic relationship effected my professional duties. But I finally realized that even though my career was important to me, Mulder mattered more." "Are you sure? For instance, if you had to give up working for the F.B.I. to be with him, would you do it? Could you?" "Yes," Scully replied. "I almost did once. It was before we were married, before we'd ever even kissed. But we'd already been through so much together, grown so close. . .They wanted to split us up, transfer me out to Utah. It would, actually, have been a promotion for me. I refused it, turned in my resignation. Later they reconsidered, allowed me to remain at headquarters as Mulder's partner. Making the decision to give up my career. . .it wasn't easy. I just knew that giving up Mulder would be even harder. I got lucky, got to keep both my career and my man," she gave a little smile at that, "but I knew that if they ever again forced my hand, my choice would have been the same." "I wish I had your convictions," Mac said. Mulder clenched his jaw against a rising wave of nausea. Harm had offered him a brief warning when the storm first hit, but since then the other man had been too busy piloting the plane to offer reassurances or explanations. Mulder fully realized the danger they were in; understood that the same vision problems which prevented Harm from flying at night would be hampering him in this weather. Be sort of ironic, Mulder thought, if I died like this. After all the weird things I've been through, the dangers I faced. . .to die in a sad, but common accident while investigating a case that turned out not to even be a crime, much less an X-File. He offered up a prayer to a God he wasn't sure he believed in that everything come out all right. Along with his supplication, however, was a note of thanks. He was glad he and Scully were married, even if it had only been for a few months. Glad that he'd finally garnered, from somewhere, the courage to tell her how deep his feelings really ran. Because, as much as he didn't want to die, knowing that his death left his beloved Dana forever in doubt about the truth of his love would have made it a thousand times worse. Suddenly, as quickly as it had arose, the storm dissipated. A beam of sunlight shone into the cockpit, turning the instrument panel almost irridescent. The sky was now crystal blue. "Hey, Mulder, you okay back there?" Harm asked. "Yeah," Mulder replied. "I don't know much about flying small planes, but that was a helluva piloting job!" "Thanks. Let me just get an instrument reading and adjust our course and we'll be back to the ship in no time. I promised Mac we'd be back before dark and, as an officer and a gentleman, I'm honor bound to keep my word." Charles breathed a sigh of relief as the Harm's voice crackled across the radio. They were okay. Almost out of fuel, but back on course and just a few nautical miles away from the carrier. Charles almost broke a speed record running back to his sister's quarters. "Dana! It's okay. We've re-established radio contact. They should be in sight by the time we make it up to the deck." Dana kissed her brother and gave Mac's hand a brief squeeze. The three of them made it up onto deck just as the plane began to come in for descent. "Honestly," Mac murmured. "I don't know if I want to kiss Harm or chew him out for putting me through this." "I don't have that problem," Scully answered with a smile. As soon as Harm gave the okay, Mulder swung his long legs out of the cockpit and hopped down. Okay, so it wasn't exacly terra firm, but after what he'd just been through the steady deck of a large ship was reassuring. He'd barely had time to glance around before Scully was on him. Quite literally. She didn't speak, simply wrapped her arms around his neck dragged his mouth down to hers. Mulder hugged her tightly and kissed her with equal passion. When they finally came up for air he smiled gently into her eyes. "It's okay, baby," he whispered. She smled back and nodded. "Now it is. You're home safe." "We're on an aircraft carrier, Dana!" "We're together. That makes us at home." "You know, Agent Scully, when you're right, you're right." Charles moved to clap his brother-in-law lightly on the shoulder. "The Captain wants you and Harm in his office in an hour to report on your findings. Why don't you go back to your quarters and finish, um, briefing Dana on the situation." The two agents held hands as they quickly transversed the narrow corridor back to their quarters. As Mac and Harm moved away from the small crowd that had gathered around the plane, he said, "Did I make you blink, Marine?" Mac knew the unspoken rules that they followed in their relationship demanded that she give a flip answer in return, but she just couldn't do it. Not now. Not with the silent echo of Dana's "a woman worried about the man she loves," still ringing in her ear. Once they had rounded a corner and were in relative privacy, she stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. "I'm glad you made it back safely, Harm," she said. Then moved away quickly before he could speak. "A whole hour to ourselves, Scully," Mulder said with a grin as soon as they had shut and locked the door. "Any ideas how we should spend it?" "Shut up and kiss me, Mulder." "Oh, but Scully, it's so much more fun when I keep my mouth *open* to kiss you," he replied. Before Scully could reply, he demonstrated. A long, deep kiss, probing her mouth with his tongue, feeling hers do the same to his. When they came up for air, he bent his knees slightly and lifted her so that she could encircle his waist with her legs. "Let's go christen the other bed," he murmured. Getting undressed proved a bit difficult, because Scully didn't want to remove her arms and legs from his body. But Mulder managed. He wasn't in the mood for a half-clothed quickie. He wanted full body contact, skin-to-skin from head to toe for both of them. When they were completely naked, he kissed her again. "I love you," he whispered against her lips. "I love you, too." He positioned her beneath him and began to rock within her in slow, steady strokes. There would be time, later, for leisurely, erotic variations on this theme, but right now they just wanted to express their love in the most basic way possible. Face-to-face, their bodies joined. Looking into her eyes he smiled and whispered his love again. She smiled and gave a little whimper of pure pleasure as her body began to convulse around him. As so often happened with them, the feel of her climax triggered his own. A few minutes later, Mulder murmured, "As much as I would love to stay here and indulge in some afterglow cuddling, we need to get dressed, Scully. I don't want both JAG officers, the Captain and your brother all showing up at our door demanding to know why we haven't reported as ordered." "Mmm, you're right." She reluctantly untangled herself and began redressing. The Captain looked over his desk at the JAG officers and Lieutenant Charles Scully. "You did an excellent job of piloting the plane in difficult conditions, Lt. Commander Rabb. If you do decide to apply for a change in duty designation to become an aviator again, I'll be glad to put a note in your file giving my recommendation that the Navy take advantage of your skills." "Thank you, sir." "Lieutenant Scully, your sister and brother-in-law are running a bit late. Do you have any idea what they could be doing?" "Being as she *is* my sister, sir, I'm working very hard on *not* contemplating what they could be doing." The Captain gave a brief chuckle at that. "Really, sir, the agents played a much larger role in bringing this case to a conclusion that Lt. Commander Rabb and myself did," Mac said. "And they aren't military. I think, under the circumstance, they can be forgiven for running a few minutes late." At that moment, a brief knock sounded at the door and Mulder and Scully walked in. They were the very epitome of professionalism, the only contact between them the light touch of his hand at the small of her back. "Sorry we're late, sir," Scully said. But she didn't offer any excuses as to what had delayed them. "Apology accepted," the Captain replied. "Sit down agents, and explain to me exactly how these Sailors died." Once the report had been completed, the Captain said. "We're headed into port now. We'll dock early tomorrow morning. Unless getting back to shore is a matter of some urgency for you, it would probably be easier for you just to wait and disembark then." "That will be fine," Mulder answered. The JAG officers and the agents both stood up. "In case we don't see each other again before leaving the ship, it's been a real pleasure working with you," Mac said, holding her hand out to Scully. "Likewise," Mulder replied, reaching out to shake hands with Harm. Author's e-mail address: tapw63@yahoo.com.