Old Growth Forest Andrea ardywyn@hotmail.com Author: Andrea Title: Old Growth Forest; Chapter 1 Category: AU, MSR, Scully POV Disclaimer: I wish...then there would be no ninth season, never mind a semi-Mulderless eighth. Archiving: I'd be honoured, but I'd also like to know. Notes: I won't be posting this to ATXC until it's done. As I finish each chapter, I'll put it on my site. A big thanks goes out to Jemirah for her patient beta reading Spoilers: Detour, Humbug Feedback: Yes Please! ardywyn@hotmail.com ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "God, my head hurts," I groaned as I began to surface from a strange, dark place where there were no dreams. It wasn't just my head that hurt. My whole body hurt and something sharp was pushing into my back. The first thing I saw when I dragged my eyes open was trees; lots and lots of trees. "What the...?" I muttered as I tried to sit up. The effort doubled the pain in my head, however, so I stayed put. But I needed to find Mulder--he might be hurt. I took several deep cleansing breaths trying to ease the pain in my head. "Scully?" I was very relieved to hear Mulder's voice calling me. "Over here," I answered him. Some crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs began and then got louder as he approached me. "You look as bad as I feel," he observed; his voice much closer now. Opening one eye, I squinted at him. "Thanks, Mulder." "Are you okay?" he asked, squatting down beside me. "My head is pounding and my whole body aches. I feel like I was on the losing side of an argument with a bottle," I winced. "I know what you mean." Mulder rubbed his temple. "Where the hell are we?" I asked, still looking over at him with one eye open. "In the forest," Mulder deduced with his usual brilliance. "Thanks," I sighed. "Best I can do," he shrugged. "What's the last thing you remember?" "Being at the professor's house *and* having a cup coffee. We should have known better." I shook my head slightly. The motion made me feel queasy. "He looked so harmless," Mulder grimaced. "But it looks like we were on the right track." "Yeah, he must have been responsible for those disappearances, but why?" My head hurt too much to think about it. "I dunno, but at least we know the how." He reached out and brushed a strand of hair off of my face. "What? Drugging them and depositing them in woods? That doesn't make any sense. If that's all that Dr. Mettler did with them, someone would have turned up by now," I argued. "Maybe they died of exposure," Mulder countered. "In the summer?" "If they were out here for too long," he suggested. "Exactly how far do you think we are from Madison?" I asked. "No idea," he shook his head. "Well, what time is it?" "My watch is gone and so is my wallet and all of my I.D. I have my Swiss Army knife. At least he left me that." I felt for my watch and I.D.--nothing. "Great," I sighed. "I'm starting to feel a bit better now, Scully. How about you?" he asked softly. "Not yet," I groaned. "Why do I feel better and not you?" he sounded concerned. "Your size--your body processed the drug faster," I explained. "Right," he nodded. "Do you mind if I look around? Maybe I can figure out where we are." "Go ahead. Talking is making my head hurt, anyway." I closed my eye again. "See if you can find some water too." My mouth was incredibly dry. "Good idea," he agreed. "I won't be long." The sound of leaves and twigs signaled his leaving. Soon I couldn't hear him any more. Keeping very still to keep the pain at a minimum, I tried to focus on my breathing. Anything would be better than this throbbing in my head. I must have fallen asleep or lost consciousness because the next thing I knew, cold water was being splashed on my face. Opening my eyes revealed a very relieved-looking Mulder. "I couldn't wake you," his voice seemed a bit shaky. "Just the effects of whatever he gave us, Mulder, don't worry. It'll wear off soon," I tried to reassure him. "Can you sit up so that you can have a drink?" Glancing around, I was surprised to find myself lying next to a stream. "I found some water," he grinned at me. "How far did you carry me?" I asked in surprise. "Not far, a few hundred yards, maybe," he shrugged. "Thank you, Mulder," I smiled up at him. "It was easier than bringing the mountain to Muhammad," he pointed out with a smile. Mulder helped me to sit up and then, using his hands, brought me some water. It was cool and refreshing; I felt better almost immediately. Most of my symptoms could have simply been dehydration. When I'd had enough to drink Mulder took off his jacket and balled it up so that I could use it for a pillow. "Did you find anything?" I asked after he'd eased me onto my back again. "Nope." "Nothing?" I asked in surprise. He shook his head. "I even climbed the biggest tree I could find. I still couldn't see anything but trees." "I didn't know that Wisconsin was this heavily forested." I was puzzled. "There is something else bothering me too, Scully," Mulder said, his voice low and even. "What?" I didn't like the sound of his voice--it scared me. "There were no tire tracks anywhere near where we woke up and no marks indicating that we were dragged there," he informed me quietly. "You must have missed them," I said, my tone hopeful. I knew that Mulder never missed things like that. He shook his head and began to chew on his lip. "Then how did we get here?" I was beginning to get scared. We had come to Wisconsin to investigate the disappearance of some homeless people and now we were lost. "I don't have a clue," he admitted. "When I climbed that tree, I couldn't see anything that resembled a road or a telephone pole. All I saw was a wisp of smoke, maybe five miles from here." "So he dropped us in some remote part of Wisconsin, but there are no roads..." I let my voice trail off. "I dunno, Scully, but I think we should set up camp here for the night. In the morning, if you're up to it, we should walk towards that smoke I saw," he suggested. Since I didn't have a better plan, or any plan for that matter, I nodded in agreement. After Mulder brought me some more water, I felt well enough to stand up. I was a bit shaky at first, but after I walked around for a few minutes, I began to feel more like myself. "It's going to take forever for you to get anywhere with those on," Mulder nodded towards my shoes. "I wasn't planning on hiking when I put these on," I informed him haughtily. They were one of my favorite pairs--so what if the heels were four inches high? "You want to have a go at starting a fire while I get some branches for a lean-to?" he asked, ignoring my comment. "Can I borrow your knife for a minute before you go?" Taking it out of his pocket, he tossed it at me. As groggy as I was, I still managed to catch it one-handed. Then I found some dry twigs and branches and Mulder watched intently as I carved a notch into one of them. When I was done I clicked the knife shut and tossed it back to him. He made a point of catching it with one hand. I ignored him and began to work on my fire. "I'll be looking forward to a nice fire when I get back," he smirked. "Okay," I answered brightly. I'd show him. When he disappeared into the trees I gathered some dead grass and leaves. I put some of the grass into the notch that I'd made. Since the wood was so dry, it didn't take long to create enough heat to ignite the grass--maybe ten minutes. Once it was going, I slowly fed bigger and bigger fuel into it. By the time Mulder appeared, dragging several tree branches behind him, I had a nice little fire going. "Easy when the wood's dry, huh?" he nodded towards my fire. "Why is it that when I manage to do something, it must be easy ?" I snapped at him. "I meant compared to that time in Florida, when everything was so wet," he explained, looking hurt by my attack. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I don't know why I got so defensive." Tears began to well up in my eyes. Dropping his branches, Mulder knelt down beside me. "We've been through quite a lot, Scully. You're a bit tense, no big deal." His gentleness made me feel even worse. I felt a tear spill onto my cheek. "We'll get through this, Scully. We always do," he misinterpreted my tears. I nodded. "I know and I'll try to help instead of bitching." "Help? You've helped. It would've taken me a lot longer to start a fire and I was an Indian Guide," he grinned. I knew he was trying to appease me, but it still made me feel better. "Well, let's get that lean-to built before it gets dark," I changed the subject. "Do you think this might be some elaborate scheme set up by the Bureau to get us some team building skills?" Mulder grinned as he helped me up. "Yeah, that must be it," I laughed. Working together, it took no time to construct our crude shelter. As we stood back and took in our work, Mulder took a deep breath. "Well, Scully, I'm starving. Why don't you build up the fire some more and I'll see if I can catch some fish." "With what?" I looked at him in surprise. "I'll carve myself a spear," he informed me. "A spear?" I laughed, deciding not to make the obvious "Survivor" joke. "Do you doubt me?" he feigned shock. "Not at all," I tried to suppress a smile. After the great white hunter left camp, I tended the fire and then made a bed of sorts in the lean-to. I was just beginning to think that Mulder might have gotten lost when I heard him approaching through the woods. While I'd been waiting for him, I'd built a spit of sorts over the fire in the hope that he would actually catch some fish. I was starving, so when he strode into view carrying three fish, I was overjoyed. He'd already cleaned them and was pleased with my spit set-up. While he went down to the stream to wash up, I skewered one of the fish and began to rotate it slowly over the fire. When he returned, Mulder said nothing; he just watched intently as I cooked the fish. It took no time at all and when I was done, I gave the fish to him. Judging by the way he'd watched so raptly, I figured he must have been ravenous too. "I'll wait until the next one is done, Mulder. They cook so fast," I waved him off when he offered me some of his trout. Then, while I ate mine, he cooked the third. Again, when it was done, he offered some to me. I lied and told him that I'd had enough. I decided that he needed it more than I did, even if I was still a bit hungry. By the time we were finished, the light was beginning to fade. At the creek we drank our fill and then washed our hands and faces. The cool water on my skin was refreshing. I realized as we walked toward the lean-to that I was feeling much better. The effect of the drug that we'd been given had dissipated. Before we retired to the lean-to, I carefully banked the fire. I didn't want to start a forest fire, but I didn't want to start a new fire in the morning, either. As soon as the sun went down, the temperature dropped significantly. Maybe Mulder was right; maybe the victims had died of exposure. But that still didn't explain Dr. Mettler's motives. Why would he deposit people in the wilderness alive, only to have them die later? It made no sense to me. "Here we are, cold and lost in the forest again, Scully and still no sleeping bag," Mulder chuckled once we'd closed the make-shift door on our shelter. "I'm thankful that neither one of us is injured, Mulder," I pointed out. "I am too, Scully. I was really worried about you earlier," he confessed. "I'm fine now, Mulder. Completely over it, I think. Just--" I put my hand to my mouth to stifle a yawn. "Just bone tired." "I'm wiped too," he yawned as well. In the growing darkness, I could barely make out his form, but I saw him sit down on our pine-bough bed. "More comfortable than a futon," he laughed. "See for yourself." "Let me get my shoes and nylons off first." After toeing off my shoes, I quickly shimmied out of my nylons. "What should I do with these?" "Your shoes?" he asked. "No, the nylons. I'm not planning to put them back on," I clarified. "Keep them," he said quickly. "You never know what we might be able to use them for." "Right," I agreed, joining him on the boughs. We had no idea how long it might be until we found civilization again. "Just like my tie," he added as I slipped my jacket off. "I'm not planning on wearing it, but it might come in useful." As I settled onto my side, I was surprised to feel Mulder cover me with his jacket. "Mulder, I'll be okay. Won't you need your jacket?" I protested. "I'm hot-blooded, I'll be fine," he assured me. "Besides, I was planning to cozy up to you." "Let's spread my jacket out over the pine needles. It won't be as good as a pillow, but at least we won't lose an eye," I suggested. Mulder chuckled as he helped me smooth out my jacket. Soon we were settled into the pine bed again. "Smells like you," Mulder noted. "What?!" "Your jacket smells like you. It's nice," he explained. "Oh--thanks." I had no idea that Mulder knew what I smelled like. As we lay there, I realized that was he right. He was hot-blooded. Even though we weren't touching, I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. "You *are* warm," I mumbled sleepily. He stirred and moved closer to me; spooning up against me and draping his arm over my waist. "Is that better?" he asked. "Much," I sighed before I knew what I was saying. "Mmm," was all he said, his breathing already beginning to slow. He must have thought I was referring to his body heat and not the feeling of his well-muscled frame pressed against me. Any other time it would have kept me up all night, but I was so exhausted that I fell asleep almost instantly. When I woke in the morning, Mulder was gone. I could hear the fire crackling outside. It reminded me of camping, which immediately made me think of what I disliked about it--peeing outside. But my bladder had no concern for my squeamishness. I could only hope that we wouldn't be camping for too long. I was back tending the fire when Mulder reappeared--with fish; five fish. "Five?" I chuckled. "I was still hungry when all of the fish was gone last night and I think that you were too," he explained as he prepared one of the fish. "I was fine," I brushed off his comment. "Scully, I know that you let me have all of that fish even though you were still hungry. Don't deny it," he challenged me. "I'm not denying it. I said I was fine. I didn't say I was full, but I knew that I wasn't going to starve, either. You need more calories than I do. That's all there is to it," I shrugged. "Most people would only think of themselves, Scully," he pointed out. "I was thinking about myself," I grinned. "If I didn't give you enough to eat, you wouldn't have had the strength to catch these fish." This time when all of the fish was gone, I felt full and Mulder insisted that he was too. Although I'd been very hungry, I hoped that we would be able to expand our diet soon. Fish three times a day was not something that I looked forward to. I prayed that I would have a choice. Before we began our journey, we made sure that the fire was out, dousing it with sand and what little water we could carry in our hands. It took a while, but we couldn't risk leaving live embers. When we were finally satisfied that it was out, we started our hike towards the smoke that Mulder had seen. The ground was fairly even and firm, so it was easier going in my heels than I had anticipated. Mulder still got ahead of me, but he kept stopping and waiting for me. Once when I'd lost him, I was surprised to hear his voice overhead. "Hey, Scully!" "See anything?" I asked when I spied him in a tree. "Just that smoke--and we're getting closer. It looks like whoever it is might be camping next to this stream, too." While I waited for him to climb down, I took the opportunity to get a drink of water. "How close are we?" I asked when he'd reached the ground again. "Halfway, maybe," he said apologetically. "It's not your fault, Mulder. It's mine; damn shoes." "Neither of us knew what we were getting into," he countered. "I guess," I sighed. "I don't know why I wear these ridiculous shoes anyway." Well, I did know, but I wouldn't admit why to Mulder. I'm sure he would have found it quite amusing that I was trying to appear leggier. "I like them," Mulder said, looking at my feet. "But I like those ones with the strap across the heel better." "Yeah?" I chuckled. He cleared his throat and fidgeted nervously. "I think they would've been even less practical," I pointed out, grinning at him. "Probably," he agreed, not meeting my eyes. "Ready to go?" Not long after we were on our way again, Mulder disappeared ahead of me. I couldn't help wondering why Mulder noticed my shoes. I had no idea that he paid any attention to anything that I wore. Soon the trees began to thin out somewhat and the stream widened into a pool. As I looked at the shimmering water, I didn't notice some bushes that were growing quite close to my chosen path until one of them scraped against my leg. "Damn," I muttered as I bent to examine the scratches. It was then that I realized just what I'd brushed up against, and squealed with delight. "Mulder!" I yelled as loud as I could, but he didn't respond. I ran as best I could on my heels and called him again. Then I heard him running back towards me. "I'm okay," I called. "I found something." He appeared from around a bend in the creek about 20 yards in front of me. "What?" he panted. "What did you find?" "Raspberries," I grinned and then took his hand to lead him back to the patch I'd found. "I walked right by here and never noticed them," Mulder shook his head when I showed him the bushes. "Scratched my leg." I pointed to my calf. "Now aren't you glad that you're wearing a skirt," he grinned, his mouth already full of raspberries. Although we had no idea what time it was, we decided to call our berry feast lunch and we took a breather. I made no mention of the fact that my feet were throbbing. Looking back, I realized that I should have put my nylons back on this morning because my shoes were rubbing my feet raw. I would've liked nothing better than to soak my aching feet in the cool water of the stream, but I knew I would never be able to get my shoes back on if I took them off now. When we were under way again, I was waiting for Mulder to get ahead of me, because all of this water that I was drinking was going right through me. For some reason, though, he never got very far in front of me. If I slowed down, he would keep pace with me. "What are you doing, Mulder?" I finally had to ask. "What do you mean?" He was the picture of innocence. "All morning you were way ahead of me and now, all of a sudden, you are stuck to me like glue." "Are you trying to get rid of me?" He looked puzzled. "As a matter of fact, I am," I told him honestly. I had to chuckle at the look of hurt and confusion on his face, which only added to his dismay. "I was hoping for a bit of privacy," I tried to explain delicately. He looked confused for a minute, but then his eyes widened in realization. "Sorry," he mumbled and I noticed that his ears had turned a little pink before he strode off. It took me no time to catch up to him. Apparently he'd only walked 100 yards ahead and then stopped to wait. "Why did you wait for me?" I asked once we were walking again. "I realized when you called me earlier that it was probably a bad idea to get separated," he explained. "Did I scare you," I asked in surprise. "A bit, but that's okay. We should stay together from now on," he suggested. "Stupid shoes," I muttered, making Mulder chuckle. It seemed like forever until Mulder said that we should be getting close. Right about that time, I began to hear an occasional noise in the woods, like someone was following me. When I stopped to listen, I heard nothing. Mulder shrugged it off as an echo, but that didn't satisfy me. If it was an echo, why hadn't I heard it all along? Before long, we could actually smell the smoke and some meat cooking. We also heard muted voices, but we couldn't make out what they were saying. As we rounded another bend in the stream, the trees thinned out revealing the most incredible thing I'd ever seen. It was the most realistic looking recreation of a Native American village that I'd ever seen. Mulder and I stood stock still and stared. There were several large wigwams supported by sturdy poles and covered in birch bark. Several fires were actually burning; Mulder must have seen the large one that seemed to be the center of the encampment. There were several women tending the various fires, all dressed in deer-skins. Some older women were sitting on the ground occupied with needlework while simultaneously watching the children who were running about the camp. One of these women spotted us and spoke a few sharp words that I didn't understand. All of the activity stopped, save the children dashing towards their mothers. I was about to suggest to Mulder that we introduce ourselves and tell them that we were lost when I felt something brushing against my hair. Gasping, I turned to see what it was. I was shocked to see a young Native American man pulling his hand away. It was hard to judge his age, but I would have guessed that he was in his early twenties. He wore nothing but a breech-cloth, not even shoes. Nothing adorned his head and he wore no jewelry. His red-brown skin highlighted his lean, muscled body. His hair and eyes gleamed black. "Fox Mulder." Mulder held out his hand. The young man ignored him and reached towards my hair again. I let him touch it. At first he rubbed it between his fingers, but then he suddenly gave it a sharp tug. "Ow," I complained. He stepped back, looking shocked until Mulder began to laugh. The young man relaxed. "I take it he's never seen red hair before, Scully," Mulder chuckled. "Never?" I couldn't believe it. "I don't think he speaks English," Mulder said in a low voice. "Fox Mulder," he repeated, tapping his chest. "Dana Scully," he said pointing to me. "Day-na," the young man repeated. "Fox," Mulder said, indicating himself again. "Day-na," he repeated, ignoring Mulder. He took me by the hand and led me towards the center of the village. All I could do was shrug at Mulder over my shoulder. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Title: Old Growth Forest, WIP, chapter 2 Rating: This chapter is PG, but the story will be NC-17 eventually. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The small crowd that had assembled was whispering and staring at Mulder and me, but they fell silent and gave way as we approached the central fire. The young native motioned for me to sit down at the fire. When Mulder began to sit down beside me, he was waved off and directed to sit behind me. So I stuck out my bottom lip and patted the ground beside me. My gesture made the women murmur and then smile knowingly. It seemed that my gesture had given them the impression that we were a couple. They wouldn't be the first to make that assumption. Dropping his shoulders in resignation, the sole male we had seen motioned for Mulder to join me. "It looks like your hair makes you intriguing," Mulder noted in a low voice once he was beside me. "What's going on here, Mulder?" I whispered. "Who are these people?" At first I thought that we'd stumbled upon a group of Native Americans who had gone back to the old ways, but I now I doubted that. It was rapidly becoming apparent that there had been little or no contact between these people and the outside world. How was that possible in this day and age? The young man startled me by suddenly speaking very sharply. His words made the women begin to scurry around. In no time, Mulder and I had each been given a bowl of some sort of stew and another of what tasted like herbal tea. We were both eating hungrily when one of the women handed both of us a piece of flatbread that I assumed was bannock. Everything was delicious and when all of my food was gone, I licked my fingers. Glancing up, I caught Mulder doing the same thing. The women all smiled proudly, obviously happy that we'd enjoyed the fare. Then one of the younger women indicated that she wanted me to come with her. But when I attempted to get up, I winced in pain. "What's the matter?" Mulder asked. His face, along with the faces of those gathered around, showed concern. "It's my feet," I grimaced. "What's wrong with them?" He furrowed his brow. "I should've put my nylons back on. It feels like I have some pretty bad blisters," I told him as I reached to remove a shoe. Mulder drew in a sharp breath when I eased my left shoe off. "Jesus, Scully!" Everyone clustered around to peer at my foot. The back of my heel was completely raw and bloody. On the side of my foot, on my first metatarsal joint, was another large open sore. In fact, my whole foot was badly swollen. Removing the other shoe, I discovered that my right foot was just as bad or maybe even slightly worse than my left foot. Before I could stop him, the young man had grabbed my shoes and pitched them into the fire. When I looked at him in shock, he pointed to my feet and shook his head, frowning. He must have thought that my shoes were ridiculous too. The women were all talking at once and the man bent over me like he was going to pick me up. "Hey! I'll do that!" Mulder protested before I'd a chance to speak. When he jumped up, the young man backed off, seeming to understand that Mulder thought that carrying me was *his* duty. Before I could explain that I could have walked easily with bare feet, Mulder had picked me up and was carrying me across the encampment. He was following the young man and most of the women were trailing after us. Motioning for us to wait, the young man went into a large wigwam. We could hear him talking and a deeper voice answering him. He popped his head out of the door and beckoned us inside. Before my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, the deeper voice began to speak. Again I had no idea what he what he was saying, but I heard my name. "I'm Dana," I said to the hazy form. "Day-na," he repeated and gestured for Mulder to put me down. Then he pointed to himself and said "Omiga,". "Omiga," I repeated pointing towards him. "Dana," I said indicating myself and then did same with Mulder. Soon, at least we knew each other's names. Then I was able to learn that the young man's name was Nawkaw. Even though I couldn't understand anything that was being said, knowing some names made me feel better for some reason. Omiga began to speak to me in an earnest tone of voice. Then, with his large bony hands, he picked up each foot in turn. Having adjusted to the half light, I could see the look of consternation on his face. Nawkaw was still standing just inside the door. Turning to face him, Omiga seemed to give him some instructions. "Mulder, Day-na," Omiga nodded towards the door. Mulder got to his feet quickly and stooped to pick me up. I waved him off. "I can walk, Mulder," I assured him and began to stand up. "Day-na!" Omiga barked my name, making me freeze. "Mulder," he said, nodding towards me. "Fine," I sighed in resignation. Mulder chuckled as he picked me up. "Is that all I have to do to get my way--speak firmly to you?" "Why don't you try it and find out?" I asked dryly. "I think I'll pass. I'm rather fond of all of my parts," he laughed as he carried me outside. While Mulder and I were talking, Nawkaw seemed to be calling out instructions. Almost immediately, one of the younger women was leading Mulder back towards the stream. Once we were there, she gestured for Mulder to set me down on a large flat rock. Then, kneeling down, she began to wash my feet in the cool water. "I can do that," I told her, reaching out to help. Smiling, she shook her head at me and swatted my hand away. From his perch on a rock beside me, Mulder laughed. I stuck my tongue out at him, defiantly, eliciting giggles from the young woman. Although the cool water felt good on my feet, when it initially came into contact with each open wound, it burned and stung. My cringing was upsetting the young woman, so to distract myself I tried to learn her name. "Wanik," she told me when she finally understood what I was asking. It seemed to me that the stinging had just begun to wane when Wanik gestured to Mulder to pick me up again. When we got back to the fire, the good smells of the cooking had been replaced by a far more acrid smell. Omiga was crouched by the fire, stirring something in a cast-iron pot. That pot was the first vestige of civilization that I'd seen here. From the deepness of his voice and the power that he seemed to hold, I'd expected Omiga to be a bigger man. In his youth, he must have been strong and lean, but now he was small and wizened. His face was a mass of wrinkles and his long hair was mostly grey. As we approached the fire, Omiga indicated that he wanted Mulder to set me down by the fire. There were two large pieces of deer skin there that Omiga had me to put my feet on. Mulder plunked himself down beside me to watch. While Omiga continued to stir his foul-smelling concoction, I was drawn to the activity in the camp. Aside from the children, Omiga and Nawkaw seemed to be the only men here. Judging from the number of children and the two obviously pregnant women I saw, I assumed that there must be more men somewhere--hunting presumably. Whatever was happening here, I was being sucked right into it. I was beginning to believe that I was in a real Native American village, not just a convincing recreation. But I knew that wasn't possible. There was no way that a culture like this could have survived unaltered while the world around them moved on; at least, not in Wisconsin. It's not big enough to allow for the kind of isolation that would have been needed to create this society. When I glanced at Mulder, I caught him looking around with the same sense of wonder that I was feeling. It was a small comfort to think that he was as perplexed as I was. My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden buzz in the village. As I was turning to ask Mulder if he could see what was going on, a group of about 20 men began to stream into the village. Two of the younger men were carrying a deer and most of the women hurried to help them. Initially there seemed to be a lot of excitement about the deer, until Mulder and I were spotted. Then there was a great deal of talking at once. The man who seemed to be in charge approached the fire. Speaking rapidly to Omiga, he nodded towards us. But Omiga didn't get excited; he spoke slowly and softly to the large man. Interspersed with words that I didn't understand, I heard our names a couple of times. Leaning over to look at my feet, the man nodded, said a few words and then left. From his stance and apparent authority, I assumed him to be chief. All attention had left us and was now focussed on the deer that was being taken to the woods on the opposite side of the encampment from the stream. Mulder took advantage of the lull in activity to find out who the man had been. "Namid," Omiga smiled at us and nodded. "I take it Namid is the chief," Mulder said quietly. "And he didn't look thrilled to see us," I added. "I think Omiga put in a good word for us," he nodded towards the old man. "I think you're right," I let out a long breath. "I had no idea what he was saying, but his tone and demeanor scared me." "Me too," Mulder confessed, surprising me. I was about to ask him if he thought that everything had been smoothed over, when Omiga began to say something. As he spoke, he lifted a bag made from very thin skin out of the pot. I could tell that he was trying to explain to me what he was doing. So I shook my head and shrugged to show him that I didn't understand. He was silent for a minute, then he smiled and pointed at the bag and then at my foot. I nodded to show him that I understood now. Then he touched the bag and drew his hand away quickly to show me that it was hot--I nodded again. When he untied the bag I could see that it was full of what looked like leaves and bark. I drew a sharp breath when he set my heel into the steaming mixture, but I nodded for him to continue when he quickly looked up at me. He then ensured that some of the leaves were covering my other blister. When he was satisfied, he wrapped my foot in the deer skin that it had been resting on. Then he repeated the process on my right foot. When he was finished, I was surprised to find that I was clutching Mulder's hand. "Are you okay?" He sounded worried. "It stings, but that's okay," I assured him. "I assume this stuff has some kind of antiseptic quality." "I'm surprised that you'd trust folk medicine, Scully." "How can I argue with the people who discovered acetylsalicylic acid?" I grinned. "What?" he laughed. "Aspirin, Mulder...from willow bark," I clarified. "Besides, most medicines come from plants. Through trial and error these people have discovered what works." "You can't not make it scientific, can you?" He rolled his eyes. I was about to continue the debate when Wanik appeared with two bowls. Although it hadn't been that long since our last meal, I was happy to see more food. As we ate, dusk settled over the camp and quickly deepened. Nawkaw appeared and spoke briefly to Omiga. The old healer stood up and followed him. While he was gone, a smiling Wanik came to retrieve our empty bowls. Smiling, I rubbed my stomach to let her know that I'd enjoyed it. She giggled shyly and then left. "Now what?" Mulder wondered aloud. "Do you think that we're supposed to sleep here?" "I dunno, maybe," I shrugged. "It would be better than most of the flea-bag motels that you pick." "They're mostly clean," he defended himself. "Mmm," I replied, noncommittally. I had begun to think that Omiga wasn't coming back when his wrinkled face appeared in the circle of firelight. He motioned for us to follow him, so Mulder scrambled to his feet and picked me up. We were led to a small wigwam and ushered inside. After Mulder set me down on the bed of skins and furs, Omiga knelt down beside me and then leaned in to press his lips against my forehead. Without another word, he got up and left us alone. "Don't I get a good-night kiss?" Mulder pouted. "He was checking to see if I was running a fever, Mulder," I chuckled. "Likely story!" "I'll kiss you good-night if you like," I offered. In the darkness of our shelter I couldn't see Mulder's face, but I could make out his kneeling form, not moving. "I'll take that as a no," I said quietly, hoping to mask my disappointment. But then Mulder moved quickly, pressing his lips against mine in a rather long, albeit chaste kiss. As soon as he pulled back I missed the softness of his lips against mine. "Happy now?" I asked as I lay down on my side. "No, I'm one of those straight guys who hates kissing beautiful women," he chuckled. "Thank you, Mulder," I whispered. "For what?" he asked as he settled in behind me. "For saying that I am beautiful." "Surely you didn't need me to tell you that you are a beautiful woman, Scully." Mulder pulled a fur over me as he spoke. "I guess it's been a long time since anyone told me that," I confessed. "I'm sorry," he gently apologized. "It's hardly your fault, Mulder," I laughed. I was expecting him to say something else, but he remained quiet. "Isn't there something you want to talk about?" I asked after a few minutes of silence. "Like what?" He sounded surprised. "Oh, I dunno. Like where are we? How have these people stayed so isolated? Little things like that." "I don't think that you want to know what I believe, Scully." "Why not?" "Because I think that we are only about five miles away from the place that we had coffee yesterday," he informed me evenly. "How is that possible?" I couldn't figure out what Mulder was thinking. "Think about this, Scully. If you were doing research and you wanted to use human subjects, but you knew that you would never be given permission, what would you do?" "You think that Dr. Mettler used homeless people because no one would miss them?" I clarified. "And no one did for a long time. It wasn't until a social worker noticed, that a police report was even filed," he added. "And they didn't believe her until she pointed out that it was ten people, not just one or two. Their disappearances *all* couldn't be blamed on the erratic behavior of street people," I recalled from the report. "Even then the police didn't do much," Mulder noted. "I never did ask, Mulder. How did we get this case?" "I asked for it. It came up when I did one of my routine searches for 'unexplained disappearances'," he explained. "What kind of research do you think that Dr. Mettler is doing?" "What do you think?" he asked. "What would a physics professor want with human subjects?" "I haven't the foggiest, Mulder," I had to admit. "I think it's something very near and dear to your heart, Scully." "What?" I said, now totally confused. "Why won't you just tell me what you're thinking?" "Because you won't believe me unless you figure it out for yourself," he replied. "And you think that I will eventually?" "You just have to believe in what you know is theoretically possible, Scully." I was too tired to grasp what Mulder was trying to say. Sleep overtook me quickly. It had been a long, exciting but exhausting day. As the veil of sleep clouded my mind, I thought I heard Mulder's voice saying, "There is so much that I want you to believe, Scully." The following morning, Wanik's sweet smile greeted me when I opened my eyes. She had brought our breakfast to us. I was surprised that we were still being treated like royalty. I'd thought that Namid would have put an end to that; I'd underestimated him. Setting the bowls down, Wanik backed out of the wigwam. Mulder was still snoring softly in my ear, his arm hung loosely over my waist again. "Mulder," I said softly, but he didn't stir. "Mulder," I repeated, a little louder. "Mmm," he mumbled and snuggled a little closer to me. His nose was buried in my hair and his arm now hugged me tightly. At that instant I didn't care where we were or how we got there. I would have happily stayed like that forever. But I knew that Mulder was only drawn to the warm body beside him. He didn't think about me in sexual terms. To him, we were partners and friends, nothing more. I'd decided long ago if that was all Mulder could give me, I would have to be satisfied with it. But this situation was making me realize what I was missing. I figured that it was best not to torture myself. "Mulder!" I said a third time, loudly. "What?" He seemed to be wide awake instantly. "Oh, sorry," he said, sitting up quickly. "Sorry?" I was confused. "I was just trying to tell you that our breakfast is here." After our meal, I was in a quandary. I had to pee very badly, but Omiga had wrapped my feet in such a way that it was almost impossible to walk. Without telling him why, I sent Mulder to fetch Wanik. When he brought her back, I sent him away again, looking very bewildered. After several unsuccessful attempts, I finally got Wanik to grasp my problem. She ran and got another young woman that she introduced as Migisi. Together they helped me to hobble into the woods. When we got back, Mulder scooped me up immediately. "What are you doing on your feet? Don't let Omiga catch you," he warned. "He's been looking for you, by the way." "I had to pee," I whispered, which was silly, because no one could understand me anyway. "I could've helped you, Scully" he sighed. "I would've felt funny asking you," I admitted shyly. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable telling me anything. I thought we were beyond that, Scully." The emotion I saw in his hazel eyes shocked me; I didn't know what to say. But it didn't matter, because Mulder was setting me down in front of the fire. "Will you be okay on your own?" he asked. "I was going to head down to the stream." "Of course," I waved him off. I was actually relieved to have some time to myself, so to speak. Mulder and I had been in such close proximity over the last couple of days, that all of the feelings I'd been trying to suppress had come closer to the surface than they'd been in a very long time. Why did I make so much of little things? Things like what I thought I had just seen in Mulder's eyes. It couldn't mean anything; I must have been reading too much into it. My thoughts were interrupted by Omiga saying my name. He had unwrapped my foot and wanted me to see how much better it looked. In no time, he had changed the poultice and rewrapped my bandage. When he was finished with both feet, he took his pot and ambled out of sight. Women were beginning to gather around the fire as they had the previous day. Some of them still eyed me cautiously, but most had relaxed and seemed to go about their business unconcerned. It filled me with a sense of peacefulness to sit and watch the children play while their mothers and grandmothers were busy with their tasks. Wanik was busily sewing on a pair of moccasins. Every now and again she'd hold them up for me to see. When I smiled my approval, she would bend happily to her work again. It seemed that the men weren't leaving camp. Instead they were repairing tools, mending traps and sharpening their knives. When I saw those knives, I realized that they were another modern implement, like Omiga's pot. They *must* have had some contact with the outside world in order to obtain them. I was still caught up in watching all of the activity when two young teen-aged girls ran into camp giggling. They smiled at me and then looked away shyly. Then one of the girls said something to the group of women around the fire. Some of them chuckled, but they all smiled at me. I had no idea what they were finding so amusing. About five minutes later, Mulder walked back into camp. When the women saw him, they began to murmur and smile at me again. "I take it everyone knows," he said dejectedly, sitting down beside me. "Everyone but me. What happened?" "They caught me taking a bath in the stream," he groaned; his ears had flushed pink. "Is that all?" I laughed. "Don't worry about it, Mulder. They all seem to think that I am a lucky woman." "What?" He looked at me in obvious confusion. "You know that they assume we're a couple, right?" I began. "Yeah," he nodded. "Well after they saw you naked, they think that I'm a lucky woman." "Oh." He seemed to shrink in place; his ears flushing even redder. After the midday meal, I told Mulder that I would like to have a bath too. Together we explained it to Wanik; and he left with her to get water. When they got back, I had Mulder carry me to the wigwam and then shooed him away. With Wanik's help, I managed to have a fairly decent sponge bath. She didn't seem to think that it was at all out of the ordinary that I'd asked for her help instead of Mulder's. Even though I had to get back into the same clothes that I'd been wearing for three days, my cool bath made me feel invigorated. The rest of the day passed without incident. Mulder and I *did* discuss the fact that, once my feet had healed, we would have to hike in the other direction to see what we could find. Mulder hoped that our new found native friends might be able to lead us to some English speaking people. "I hope so," I sighed. "I'm getting awfully tired of charades." After Omiga had changed the dressings on my feet again, Mulder and I retired to our wigwam. "Do you have any further thoughts about the case?" Mulder asked once we had settled into the bed. "Not really," I told him. "The only kind of research where you might want to use human subjects that I can think of is medical. But Dr. Mettler is a physicist." "I think we became part of his experiment, Scully." "Something to do with the drugs?" I tried to see if I understood what he was thinking. "I think that the drugs only made us easier to work with." He persisted in being cryptic. "Look, Mulder, I already told you that I don't know what you're getting at, and I'm tired of playing guessing games," I said angrily. "Unless you decide to share what you're thinking, I don't want to discuss this anymore." Just as he was drawing a breath to respond, a noise from outside startled both of us. "What was that?" I whispered. "Shh," Mulder quieted me. We heard the sound again--like someone calling out in pain. "I'm going to see what that was," Mulder announced, scrambling over me. Within seconds I heard some murmuring voices and then Mulder skulked back into the wigwam. "Whatever is happening, the women won't let me see," he said as he clambered back over me. "Maybe they'll let me," I suggested. "But you can't walk," Mulder protested. "I can sort of hobble. I'll be fine," I assured him as I crawled outside. The night was almost jet black; illuminated only by the cold light of the stars above me. As I got to my feet, I noticed that the temperature had dropped a couple of degrees and the wind was whispering through the trees, making the leaves rustle eerily. A small crowd of women had gathered around one of the wigwams about 30 feet from me. If I hadn't heard someone cry out in pain, I wouldn't have been at all concerned. But after everything they had done for me, I needed to see if I could help. As I began to make may way towards the women, a ghastly wail rose up from the wigwam, sending icy fingers up and down my spine. A hush fell over the women and they all silently moved away; not one of them acknowledged my presence as they passed me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Title: Old Growth Forest, WIP, chapter 3 Rating: This chapter is hard R. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Without even realizing that I had begun to move, I found myself stumbling toward the large wigwam. As I crouched to go inside, I heard a woman sobbing. A faint light was shining from the small fire that was burning in the center of the large shelter. The first thing I saw when my eyes adjusted to the light was the woman who was sobbing, her face in her hands. Then I saw an older woman cradling a newborn in her arms. I realized quickly what was wrong. The infant was not moving or making the slightest noise. "What happened?" I asked, forgetting that they couldn't understand me. The older women must have understood from my tone what I was asking. Using her hand, she showed me that the umbilical cord had been wrapped around the baby's neck. I moved to her side, knowing that if I acted quickly the infant might still have a chance. When I took the tiny boy's lifeless body into my hands, I was relieved to feel that he was still warm. Although his lips, hands and feet were dark, the rest of his body was still fairly pink, so he hadn't been deprived of oxygen for too long. I began by rubbing the soles of his feet, but I got no response. Running my knuckles over his sternum, I waited briefly but saw no reaction. When I placed his head in the palm of my hand, his little bottom didn't even reach the crook of my arm. Lifting him up, I gave him one small puff, using only the air from my cheeks. I didn't want to risk overfilling his lungs. Then, using only two fingers, I began compression at the rate of five per breath. After 20 cycles I stopped to reassess him. Checking his upper arm, my own heart skipped a beat when I felt a pulse. After drawing a shaky breath, the baby began to squall. Both women looked up in shock; eyes wide, mouths open. Handing the boy to his mother, I encouraged her to nurse him. As soon as he latched on, he began to eat voraciously. His mother kept looking down at him and then back up at me, her face full of wonder. As the infant boy continued to nurse, the midwife cut and tied his cord. Next I indicated to the mother that I wanted to touch her abdomen. She nodded her consent. Knowing that the baby's suckling would induce uterine contractions, I began to massage her belly to help her along. I wanted to make sure that the placenta was delivered whole, since I had no means of fighting infection. Soon she delivered a whole, healthy-looking afterbirth. Once I'd inspected it, the midwife took it and wrapped it in a piece of deerskin and left the shelter. Her actions didn't surprise me. I knew it was common practice for Native Americans to bury the placenta. She had no sooner left when Wanik, Migisi and three other women, whose names I didn't know, began to file into the wigwam. When Wanik spoke to the nursing mother she answered in a soft voice, occasionally nodding towards me. All of the women turned to stare at me. It hadn't occurred to me how fantastic my actions might seem to them. I had reacted instinctively. Now I was wondering if I may have scared them. The women were still whispering, staring first at the baby and then at me, when the midwife reappeared. She shooed us out of the wigwam. Assuming that she wanted mother and child to rest, I left quickly. As I was standing up outside, I was surprised to feel a hand on my arm. I turned to find the midwife smiling at me. She picked up my hands and pressed her lips to my fingers. After gently placing my hands by my sides, she turned and went back inside. I was slowly hobbling back to the wigwam when Mulder appeared out of the darkness and scooped me up. "What happened?" he asked breathlessly. As he carried me back and set me on the bed, I told him the whole story. "I don't think they'll be afraid of you," he assured me when I told him my concerns. "But I bet you garnered even more respect than you already had. Now they probably think that you're some kind of goddess." "I don't know about that," I snorted. "Just as long as they aren't scared of me," I added through a huge yawn. "Hey, don't fall asleep before I get my good-night kiss, Scully. I've never been kissed by a goddess." "I kissed you last night," I pointed out. "Yeah, but I didn't know that you were a goddess then, so it doesn't count," he argued. "I see," I chuckled. "So where are your lips? It's too dark to see in here." "Right here." His low voice was very close to me and in the next instant his lips were on mine. This kiss was longer than the one we'd shared the previous night. Instead of just pressing his lips against mine, he seemed to be caressing my lips with his. My pulse quickened and I felt a rush of heat between my legs. Catching my tongue just before it darted out to taste more of him, I had to press it against the roof of my mouth to keep it under control. It seemed like a heavenly eternity before he finally pulled back. "I'm very proud of what you did tonight," he whispered. Proud? He was proud of me? If that was the way he kissed when he was proud, he'd turn me into a quivering mass of goo if he ever kissed me because he was in love with me. Even though I was exhausted, the relentless throbbing that Mulder had created between my thighs kept me awake for what seemed like hours. When I woke the following morning, I was surprised to find myself draped over a soundly sleeping Mulder, so I gently eased myself off of him and sat up. Breakfast had again been brought to our wigwam. Picking up one of the bowls, I discovered that it was cold. Mulder and I must have been dead to the world--we were both usually light sleepers. I was so hungry that I ate the gruel anyway. Even cold it had a rich, nutty flavor. I was almost half done when Mulder opened his eyes. "Morning," I smiled. As he stretched and yawned he smiled back at me. "I don't know what it is, but I can't remember the last time I slept so well." "It's the fresh air," I told him, handing him his breakfast. "Must be," he agreed with a grin. When we'd finished, I crawled outside and prepared to hobble into the woods. Before I'd gone two steps Mulder swept me into his arms. "Oh no you don't," he laughed. "I can't wait until my feet have healed," I sighed. Mulder just chuckled and headed into the forest. When I was done I had him take me to the stream. On the way he pointed out a blood stain on my already dingy white blouse. "Maybe Wanik could help me rinse my things out in the stream," I wondered aloud. "I could do it," Mulder offered. "You'd want to rinse out my underwear?" I asked in disbelief. "Don't answer that!" I stopped him when I spotted the devilish gleam in his eyes. "Just get Wanik, please." "You're no fun," he muttered as he set me down by the stream. He was back with Wanik in no time. When he disappeared again I showed her what I wanted to do. She cheerfully helped me rinse out everything but my skirt, which I was afraid would shrink. While the rest of my things were drying on a rock, she helped me have a quasi-sponge bath. It was difficult with my feet swaddled the way they were, but we did the best we could. As I was testing my panties to see if they were dry yet, Wanik's eyes suddenly lit up. After saying something, she dashed off, leaving me sitting on a rock--naked. I was petrified that someone was going to come along and find me, but she was back quickly, carrying a deerskin dress over her arm. I couldn't believe how incredibly soft it was. I looked up at her, needing to be sure that she really wanted me to have it. She must have read the question on my face because she nodded vigorously. So I slipped the dress over my head and, since I was sitting down, Wanik helped me pull it over my hips. She then disappeared again after saying something else, and Mulder appeared a short time later. He grinned broadly when he saw me. "I always knew that you'd look good in leather," he chuckled. "Shut up, Mulder," I tried to hide my smile. "Omiga's been looking for you again," he informed me after we'd gathered up my clothes and were heading back to camp. Nodding, I wondered how much longer the old healer wanted to keep my feet wrapped like this. I thought it was about time that they got some fresh air. After Mulder set me down, he took my clothes back to the wigwam. Omiga quickly unwrapped my feet, but instead of wrapping them back up again it seemed like he wanted to talk about something else. Smiling as he spoke, he made a cradling motion with his arms, making it clear to me that he wanted to talk about the baby. As he continued to speak, I heard him say the chief's name. In the midst of our discussion Mulder returned and sat down beside me. "It was Namid's baby?" I asked, making the same cradling motion. Omiga shook his head quickly and then pursed his lips. Suddenly he grabbed a twig and began to draw in the hard-packed earth that surrounded the fire. First he scratched out a stick figure, then pointing at it said "Namid,". I nodded in understanding. Next to the picture of Namid he drew another, slightly smaller, stick figure and called it Apram. Pointing at Apram he cradled his arms and then pointed at Namid. "Oh," I said quickly. "Apram is Namid's baby." I used the cradling motion again. "But he is a grown man," I said raising my hand. Mulder was nodding as I spoke. Omiga gave me a semi-toothless grin, drew a tiny figure and then pointed at Apram's picture. "It was Apram's baby," I finally understood. Omiga smiled at his success. "Wow, Scully, you saved the chief's grandson." "I had no idea--not that it mattered," I added quickly. When I turned back to Omiga, he had a quizzical look on his face. He looked from me to Mulder and then back again. He made the cradling motion again and then looked at us questioningly. Shaking my head quickly, I looked at the ground. How could I explain to him that even if Mulder and I were a couple, all of my ova had been stolen and I was barren? I was surprised to feel a finger under my chin, lifting it up. Omiga was smiling at me sympathetically as I fought to blink back my tears. He looked pensive for a minute, then pointed at my belly and said something. Glancing quickly at Mulder, I found that his eyes were shining as well. It broke my heart that Mulder felt responsible for what has happened. No matter how many times I tried to convince him that he was not culpable for anything that had happened to me while we'd been partnered, I could never manage to change his mind. Trying to put on a brave face, I gave his hand a squeeze. "God, Scully," he breathed, his voice cracking as he spoke. Then in one rapid movement he pulled me onto his lap and buried his head in my shoulder. "Shh," I tried to soothe him. "It's okay. I'm all right, really." "It's not okay, Scully, and you aren't all right. I can never forget that." His voice was clouded with emotion. "I'll never forget either, Mulder. But I have to move on. I can't wallow in self-pity," I told him, stroking his hair as I spoke. "I know, I know, but when it comes up fresh like this it makes me so angry," he sighed. "And so sad," he added quietly. Biting my lip to keep from blurting out how much I loved him, I held him tightly. As I took long, shaky breaths, I quietly reveled in how securely Mulder was holding me. When I opened my eyes I was surprised to find that Omiga had gone. Scanning the village, I spied him halfway across the encampment. "Omiga," I called to him. "What about my feet?" I asked, pointing at them. Shaking his head, he made a wavy, fluttering motion with his hands. "What the hell does that mean?" Mulder laughed. "If I'm not mistaken, I think he wants my feet to get some air," I told him with a smile. Since the men had left before Mulder and I were even awake, the village was fairly quiet. After the second meal of the day Wanik indicated that she wanted me to come with her. Once I'd made sure that Mulder knew where I was going, I headed off with her and three other women. In my bare feet I walked with them through the woods to the exact berry patch that I'd stumbled upon two days earlier. It took a few good hours of picking, but we managed to fill all of the baskets we'd brought. When we got back to camp, Mulder was nowhere to be seen. Asking around, Wanik found out that he'd gone somewhere with Omiga. Dusk was beginning to settle when they finally got back. But I hadn't been worried--I knew that if he was with Omiga, he was safe. "Where'd you go?" I asked when he trudged over to me. "We must have done a good ten miles tramping out there. He had me picking berries, digging up roots, scraping bark. He even had me scale a tree, because apparently the leaves near the ground weren't good enough," he explained, shaking his head. "I must reek, Scully. I'm going to take a quick dip." "See you in a few then," I laughed and settled myself by the fire to wait. Mulder had no sooner disappeared from view when Wanik showed up with two bowls. Stopping short, she looked around like she'd lost something. I had to chuckle at the look on her face. "He went to take a bath," I nodded towards the stream, making a washing motion on my arm. Sighing, she set the bowls down beside me. "He won't be long," I told her, hoping she would glean something from my tone. As I was looking up at her, some idea seemed to strike her and she hurried away. A few minutes later she reappeared, grinning from ear to ear. "What?" I tried to ask the question with my face too. She took both of her hands and held them just above her thighs and gasped. "What!?" I repeated. "Mulder," she laughed and shook her head. She must have gone to the stream to get Mulder for supper and was obviously very amused by modesty. I was prepared to ask him when he got back, but when he strode back into camp, any questions that had been in my mind simply vanished. My breath caught in my throat and I had to remind myself to inhale. He was wearing a pair of deerskin breeches. Since he was a couple of inches taller than anyone here, they were a bit short, but I hardly noticed. I couldn't stop looking at where they ended on his belly--right below his navel. The effect only accentuated his abdominal muscles. I think my mouth might have been hanging open. "What should I do with this stuff?" He held out a ball of damp clothes. "I rinsed them out in the stream." "Spread them out in the wigwam--they might dry by morning," I suggested and then turned and watched as he walked away. My eyes were drawn to the way the leather highlighted every muscle in his ass. "Nice pants," I smiled when he got back. "Wanik gave them to me," he explained, joining me on the ground. "I know. She thinks it's pretty funny that you're so modest," I laughed. Mulder just grumped and began to eat his supper. Wanik appeared out of nowhere as soon as we'd finished and beckoned us to follow her. She led us to the largest wigwam in the village and motioned for us to go inside. A fire was burning inside and circled around it were many of the older men of the tribe. I was disappointed that Omiga wasn't among them. Most of the men seemed to be dressed up, wearing ornate necklaces and clothes which were more heavily decorated than the plain attire they wore hunting. The most shocking sight was Namid, who had the pelt of a fox, head and all, draped over *his* head. The chief motioned for Mulder and me to sit down in the open space opposite him. "I hope that's not symbolic," Mulder nodded towards the chief's headdress. Namid looked at us in surprise when I chuckled. "It's the fox," I said quickly, pointing at the fur, hoping I hadn't offended him. "Mesquakie," he rumbled. "Fox Mulder," Mulder pointed to himself. "Mesquakie--Fox," he said, pointing at the chief's head and at himself. A buzz started around the circle. "Mesquakie," the chief repeated, motioning to everyone present. "These are the Fox Indians," Mulder almost whispered. "You've heard of them before?" I was surprised. "I learned about them in school, along with the Sauk. They all but disappeared in the French and Indian Wars. As a kid, I thought it was cool to have the same name as an Indian tribe." "The French and Indian Wars?" I said in shock. "That was the early 1800's, Mulder." "I know," he said solemnly. When we finished whispering, Namid began to speak as if he was telling a story, but I wasn't paying attention. I couldn't stop thinking about what Mulder had said. At least now I knew what he thought had happened. He thought that Dr. Mettler had been working on a time machine. I knew it was theoretically possible, but surely there had to be a more plausible explanation. I was drawn back to Namid's story when I heard my name and Apram's. I began to realize that he was recounting the events of the previous night. After he had spoken for a long time, he made a circling motion with his arms and said the name of the tribe. Several of the men straightened up in shock and one even spoke up. Namid answered him calmly. Then another man spoke and another, and soon the room was buzzing again. Finally Namid slapped his hand on his thigh and bellowed. The questioning men shrank back and fell silent. I stole a worried look at Mulder. "I think he just said, 'That was my grandson, God damn it, and what I say goes.'," Mulder leaned over to whisper. "But what is he saying?" I whispered back. "I'm not sure, but I think that we have been adopted by the tribe," he told me, and then chuckled at what must have been a shocked look on my face. While we'd been speaking with low voices, a bowl had started to make its way around the circle, each person taking a sip before they passed it on. When it was Mulder's turn and he took a sip, his eyes grew wide. "Smooth," he choked when he was done. All of the men looked at me expectantly as Mulder passed the bowl to me. Lifting the bowl slowly to my lips, I prepared myself for something horrible. At first the warm liquid seemed to have no taste, but as it slid down my throat it began to burn. I breathed in deeply through my nose to keep from sputtering. My eyes had begun to tear up, but I said nothing as I passed the bowl on. Mulder was looking at me sideways, grinning. I wanted to tell him to shut up, but I was afraid that I would start coughing if I opened my mouth. When the bowl reached Namid, he drank what was left and then began to speak again. It seemed like a long time before he finished and the men began to leave the wigwam. "Thank you, Namid," I smiled at him as I got up to leave. He nodded his head once, solemnly. Once we were outside and heading back to our wigwam, Mulder leaned over to whisper in my ear again. "He reminded me a lot of Skinner, but with hair." "Me too." I couldn't help giggling. "Day-na!" I stopped short when I heard my name. Omiga was hurrying towards us with a small bowl in his hands. He held it out for me and when I took it, he pushed it up towards my mouth. I was dreading that it was going to be more of that burning liquid from the ceremony, but when it got close to my nose I could tell that it was different--worse, in fact. I pulled back, wrinkling my nose. "Day-na!" Omiga chuckled, and pushed the bowl back towards me. The old man had done so much for Mulder and me that I couldn't say no to him. So, taking a deep breath, I swallowed the liquid in the bowl. It was dreadfully bitter, but I managed to get it down without gagging. Omiga took his bowl back, looking pleased with himself. "Mulder," he said pointing to himself. "Day-na," he said, pointing towards the wigwam. "I think I've been excused," I shrugged. "Guess so," Mulder seemed equally perplexed. As I walked towards the wigwam, I could hear Omiga begin to speak to Mulder, but as soon as I went inside, I could hear them no longer. I decided that my dress would be too warm to sleep in, so I swiftly slipped it off and put my bra and panties back on. I hurried to get under the covers so that Mulder wouldn't catch me, but I had no reason to worry. By the time he joined me I was almost asleep. "Sorry it took so long," he apologized immediately. "It took me a while to figure out what Omiga was trying to say." "And...?" I asked drowsily. "If you don't mind, there's something else that I'd like to talk about first," he asked quietly. "That's okay," I told him, assuming that he wanted to talk about his time travel theory. "Could I have my good-night kiss first?" he whispered hoarsely. "Why?" I asked in confusion. "Just in case you don't want to kiss me when I'm done," he explained. "Why wouldn't I want to kiss you?" I was bewildered. "Please, Scully," he almost begged. "Okay, but I still don't understand," I consented. The kiss he gave me was almost identical to our kiss the night before, except that I felt his hand slide into my hair. Again I had to consciously keep my tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth. When he finally pulled back, I was surprised to find my hands in his hair. After I'd pulled them back, Mulder slipped under the covers with me. He was lying so close to me that I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. "What did you want to talk about?" I asked quietly. "Well, it's something that I've tried to talk to you about before, unsuccessfully," he explained. "Go on," I prompted, having no clue about what he was getting at. I was startled to see a shadow pass across my face, and shocked to feel his hand stroking my hair. This action had caused him to lean a little closer to me and I was sure that I could feel his erect cock grazing my thigh. "The problem is that you never seem to believe me when I tell you things, Scully," he began. "Since you always want proof, would it be okay if I showed you?" "Okay," I agreed hesitantly, still not sure what he was talking about. "May I kiss you again?" His voice was unsure. "Yes," I whispered. This time, as his lips were caressing mine, I felt his tongue run softly along my upper lip. Groaning at the sensation, I opened my mouth to him. Heat flooded through me, my arms and legs feeling like they were alight. At the first sign of my approval, he deepened the kiss, crushing my mouth with his. My tongue was in his mouth, dancing over his tongue, sliding along his teeth. I groaned again when his hand closed over my breast. We parted, panting, meeting again after we'd gasped for breath. My hands were skimming over his back. My mind swirled as my hands came to rest on the soft leather covering his ass. I chuckled into his mouth as I squeezed and caressed his muscles and was thrilled to feel his arousal grow even harder. When I felt Mulder's hand easing under my back, I arched up to give him more room. With one flick, he'd unfastened the two hooks holding my bra closed. When he slipped it off, I delighted at the skin to skin contact. When his hot hand covered my breast, and my nipple hardened in response, Mulder groaned. Parting my legs, I tugged at him to let him know that I wanted him to move. He was between my thighs in an instant; his hardness pressing against where I wanted it most. As our hands roamed, we continued to kiss deeply, our tongues exploring as our hands were. Mulder gently rotated his hips against me and I lifted my hips to meet him. "God, Scully, I love you," Mulder whispered, finally breaking our kiss. "And I love you, Mulder. I'm sorry I didn't believe you before," I breathed, pulling him back into a kiss. "Scully," Mulder said breathlessly, pulling out of our kiss again. "We need to talk about what Omiga said." "Now?" I whimpered. "Sorry," he said softly, "But I think we should." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Title: Old Growth Forest, WIP, chapter 4 Rating: This chapter is NC-17. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I couldn't begin to fathom what Mulder might think was important enough to interrupt our love-making at this point. He never ceased to amaze me. Just when I thought I had him pegged, he would do something like this, making me stop and re-evaluate everything that I thought made him who he was. "Well, what is it? What did he want?" I asked breathlessly. "Before I tell you I want to be sure that you understand that what he said in no way influenced what is happening between us, Scully." "What on earth did you two talk about?" He had piqued my curiosity. "Well, it might have given me some extra courage," he continued. "Mulder!" I protested impatiently. "It took me a long time to figure it out, Scully, but it seems like that drink that he gave you can cure infertility." "Mulder," I said gently. "Nothing can cure my kind of infertility. I can't spontaneously generate new ova. Maybe if it had been some other kind of problem..." "I know, Scully," he answered softly. "But I had to tell you. Omiga gave me strict instructions to come in here and boink your brains out." "I would've liked to have seen that," I giggled. The mental image of *that* game of charades already forming in my mind. "It was a little embarrassing when I finally figured out what he was saying," Mulder chuckled as he began to nuzzle my neck, his few days' growth of beard tickling me. "Bless his heart," I sighed. "With everything that he's done for us, he still wanted to give us more." "I just thought you should know in case he starts asking questions tomorrow," Mulder said, lifting his lips from my neck. "You could've told me later," I pointed out. "I was worried that I might get distracted and forget," he admitted. "So you're free to be distracted now?" I began to squeeze his ass again. "Oh yeah," he breathed before his mouth covered mine again. As his soft lips caressed mine, my hands found their way to the leather laces on the sides of his breeches. While I worked away at them, Mulder was busily working at removing my panties. Soon, but not soon enough, there were no more barriers between us. Mulder's penis was pressed against my opening, but he wasn't moving. Through the darkness I could hear his labored breathing. "Is something wrong?" My voice was barely a whisper. "Wrong? God, no! Everything is so right." His voice was low and gravelly. "I'm trying to remember every nuance, Scully." "I know -- I've wanted this for so long, Mulder. Now I want to know what it feels like to have you inside of me, instead of only dreaming about it," I confessed. Groaning in response, Mulder finally began to ease into me. The sensation was exquisite; being slowly stretched and filled by him. "Oh, Mulder," I sighed. "Okay?" The concern in his voice touched me. "Yes," I breathed. "Better than okay -- fantastic." "Mmmnn." The sound came from deep within his throat. Once he was completely inside of me taking slow, gentle strokes, his lips found their way back to mine. We kissed each other greedily, as if we might be able to make up for lost time. My hands were in his hair, keeping him close to me; trying to get him closer. My legs were wrapped around his thighs, but we were moving independently, yet meeting with every stroke. My thoughts were swirling. I, too, was having trouble believing that this was truly happening, but it was. This was Mulder making love to me. I loved the feel of him, the smell of him, and the taste of him. Every time that I realized anew that it was really him, another jolt of pleasure would surge through me. "Promise me something, Mulder," I asked breathlessly, after freeing my lips. "Anything, Scully," he panted. "Promise me that we can do this in the morning. I want to be able to see you love me." "God, Scully," he breathed and began to thrust harder. "Does that mean you promise?" The sultry sound of my voice surprised me. "Yes, I promise." His voice had taken on an earthy quality of its own. Without breaking his rhythm, Mulder adjusted our position by moving forward slightly. It had an effect instantaneously. Now every time our bodies met, my clitoris grazed against him. Gasping at the sensation, I lifted my hips and moved against him, prolonging the contact. Mulder must have realized what I was doing, because he slowed his pace slightly and exaggerated the rotation of his hips on every stroke. With each revolution, I could feel myself getting closer to my peak. My hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, and I clawed at him in my desperation for release. Our lips had parted, our need for oxygen too great, but his face was only inches from mine; his breath mingling with mine. It seemed like Mulder had slowed his pace further, creating even more friction between our bodies. I was torn; wanting him to go faster, anticipating my climax, but also wanting to enjoy the sweet agony of the journey for as long I could. Above me, I could feel Mulder's body begin to shake. Knowing that he must be close too, I clenched my muscles around him. As he called my name, our bodies met again, but this time I held him close to me longer. The increased contact was enough to send me over the edge. My body quaked and throbbed against him and he pulsed inside of me. Every time I thought that it had finally subsided, my body would shudder again -- it seemed endless, beautifully endless. Once he had stopped shaking, Mulder began to kiss me softly -- my lips, my nose, my chin, chuckling each time my body shook beneath him. "You like that?" My voice was still smoky. "Mmm." He pressed his lips against the tender skin below my ear. "I'm particularly fond of how it feels inside of you." It hadn't occurred to me that, with every aftershock, my muscles must be rippling around him. The thought of our bodies still being joined began to arouse me again, but the narcotic effect of my orgasm was more powerful and I felt myself sinking towards sleep. "Sleepy," I mumbled to Mulder, running my finger along his bottom lip. "Me too," he told me, rolling to his back and taking me with him. "I thought you'd want to spoon," I said through a yawn as I snuggled up against him. "Well, I liked the way it felt this morning when I woke up and you were sleeping on top of me. But I couldn't really enjoy it the way I wanted to." I could hear the grin in his voice. "I thought you were sleeping." My face was flushing even though I had no reason to be embarrassed now. "It felt so right, so perfect to wake up that way, that I drifted back to sleep," he explained, giving my ass a gentle squeeze. "It does feel right," I agreed drowsily, snuggling up to him again, as if the action could get me any closer than I already was. Mulder's contented sigh was the last thing I remember hearing before sleep overtook me. Late the following morning, I woke spooned up to him. As I let myself enjoy the way he was holding me, I recalled how, at the first light of dawn, I had woken him to make love again. As much as I enjoyed how he felt and tasted and smelled, seeing the desire in his eyes and the ecstasy on his face as we moved together gave me more pleasure than everything else combined. My eyes had drifted shut as I let a mental image of Mulder at my breast float through my mind, when a rustling noise near by startled me. Opening my eyes, I caught Wanik trying to leave quietly after bringing our breakfast. "Wanik," I said softly, making her look up in surprise. Her expression turned apologetic at once. "It's okay." I used reassuring tones. "Thank you," I smiled. Smiling shyly, she murmured something before backing out of the wigwam. Turning in Mulder's arms, I lay my head on his shoulder. While he continued to sleep, I began to tickle his chest. "Breakfast is here," I smiled when he eventually opened his eyes. "Why don't we eat it while it's warm?" We were delighted to find that the raspberries that I'd helped to pick yesterday had been added to the porridge. After all of our recent activity, we were both hungry. When we'd finished, Mulder lay back down and pulled me with him. At first I thought that he wanted to make love again, but he seemed to be content just holding me. I, too, was perfectly happy to simply lie in his arms. "So?" I said finally. "Mmm?" He began to caress my hair. "You think we're in the past?" It might not be the best time to have this discussion, but I didn't think there would ever be a good time. "Yup." He was running his fingers slowly down my neck. "Maybe it's just some kind of holographic projection," I suggested. "Holograms can't touch you, Scully," he pointed out. He was right and I didn't believe what I was saying anyway. I was just trying to play the devil's advocate. "Well, there *is* still plenty of wilderness in Canada. Maybe Dr. Mettler drove us there." I tried another angle. "I thought of that, too, but there weren't any tire tracks, Scully. How would he have gotten us there? And how would he have made it past the border check?" he countered. "I also considered a biosphere experiment, thinking that it might not be as big as it looked -- the vast distances being a holographic illusion. But then we stumbled into this village and that theory got blown out of the water." "I still need something more to go on, Mulder. I can see why you believe that, but I need proof." "You can't just believe me, Scully," he sighed. "What? You thought that all of a sudden I would be a completely different person; believing everything you say, no questions asked?" As I spoke, his hand slipped down my back, and he began to gently caress my ass. "Yeah, I thought you'd say something like 'How could I doubt a gorgeous hunk of man like you?'," he chuckled, giving my ass a firmer squeeze. "Well, I guess you didn't successfully boink my brains out then, Mulder," I laughed. "Because I still have enough to form opinions of my own." "Maybe I'm not done yet." His rich, dark voice sent chills through me. Then he startled me by quickly pulling me on top of him. "Maybe you'll never be able to," I murmured as I began to place feathery kisses on his chest. "Then I'll die trying," he breathed, sliding me up his body. "I'll gladly die trying," he whispered again before our lips met. As my tongue delved into his mouth, I felt his cock grow hard beneath me. I was about to raise my hips, so that I could lower myself onto him when the sound of someone clearing their throat made me freeze. Mulder and I both turned in the direction of the sound to find Omiga crouched outside of the entrance to our wigwam, staring at the ground. Slipping off of Mulder toward the back of the shelter, I quickly covered myself. Muttering apologetically, Omiga held a bowl out to Mulder. "Day-na," he nodded towards me. "Not more," I whined, vividly recalling the bitterness of last night's concoction. "Day-na," Omiga chastised, apparently recognizing the tone of my voice. "Fine," I sighed, taking the bowl from Mulder. I was pleasantly surprised, though, when I brought the bowl to my lips. This mixture had a fragrant, almost flowery smell and a faintly sweet taste. Licking my lips when I was finished, I had Mulder pass the bowl back to Omiga. "Do you think that was supposed to be another fertility potion?" I asked Mulder once the healer had shuffled away. "Could be, or maybe a maternity vitamin," he smiled softly at me. "Please don't do this to yourself, Mulder," I implored him. "If Native Americans had found a way to regrow ova, don't you think it would be all over the news?" I pulled him into a hug. "I just want this so much for you, Scully -- for us." "I want it too, Mulder. And there are ways for us to have a baby that don't involve magic potions," I assured him. "Like what?" he mumbled into my hair. "Adoption?" I suggested. "Or an ova donor, they do exist. We could use your sperm and I can still carry a child." "You'd be willing to do that?" he asked softly. "As long as we are both happy with the idea, I would. That's as close as I'll ever come to having our child, Mulder." Knowing now that Mulder loved me, I looked back at his reaction to my infertility in a new light. I'd thought that he'd grieved with me as a friend, not as the father of the children I could no longer have. Knowing that he wanted our child as much as I did, made the ache in my heart even more keen. It was a long time before Mulder relaxed his hold on me. As much as Mulder and I wanted to, we decided that we wouldn't be given enough privacy to stay inside and make love all day. So we reluctantly dressed and emerged to face the day. Bathing in the stream together, we discussed what we should do now that my feet were better. For once we agreed on something; we needed to find some English-speaking people. Our reasons differed, but Mulder and I had often proved that when we worked together towards a common goal we were practically unstoppable. "How are we going to explain that we have to go?" We were dressing beside the stream. "I think using pictures, we should be able to get our point across. I'm more worried about how this is all going to go over," he admitted. "What do you mean?" I didn't understand his concern. "They've taken us in, fed us, clothed us, healed us and I'm fairly certain adopted us and now we are going to ask them to take us somewhere else. What if they think we weren't happy here?" "We'll have to show them that we are happy here," I said simply. "Then try to explain that we need to leave, but we don't want to." "That is a subtle difference to express playing pictionary and charades, Scully," Mulder said, taking my hand as we headed back to camp. For the rest of the day, my heart was heavy as I thought about what Mulder had said. How were we going to explain the difference between want and need? All afternoon I helped the women in any capacity they would allow. Mulder fetched and carried for them, played with the kids and flirted with the grandmothers. We did everything that we could think of to show everyone how happy we were; complimenting the food, oohing and awing over the arts and crafts and admiring the skins that were being tanned. Before long I could tell that almost everybody was slightly bemused by our behavior. Every chance we got, Mulder and I tried to think of some way to explain ourselves, but anything we thought of seemed far too complicated. My mind was racing trying to come up with an easy way to explain the difference between want and need, when the answer finally became clear. "I'll teach them English." "What?" Mulder looked up from playing cat's cradle with a young boy. "And I'll start with two words, want and need," I heaved a sigh of relief. "You think you can?" Mulder sounded doubtful. "We have to try something," I shrugged, intent on figuring something out to explain our actions. In the late afternoon before it was time for the evening meal, I gathered as many adults and teenagers as were willing. They all watched me expectantly as I picked up a twig and began to draw in the packed earth. Mulder sat off to the side playing cat's cradle by himself and watched. To my right I wrote the word 'WANT' in large block letters and circled it. Then a few feet away to my left, I did the same with 'NEED'. Everyone peered curiously at the marks that I'd made. "Need." I pointed to the word, and then I repeated it. Looking at Wanik, I pointed to the word again. Her brow furrowed immediately. "Need," I said again. When I looked to Wanik a second time and pointed to the circle on the left, she repeated the word slowly. Smiling, I nodded vigorously and repeated the word again. Going around the circle, I got everyone to say it. They all seemed pleased that they could please me so easily. When I moved on to 'want' they understood immediately and repeated the word right away. "Now you just have to explain what they mean," Mulder said from the sidelines. "Oh, ye of little faith," I chided him. Seeing a pot of venison and wild rice simmering on the fire, I took a bowl, filled it, and placed it in the need circle. "Need," I said firmly. Walking over to Mulder, I snatched his string away, making several of the women guffaw. "Want," I told them as I placed it in the appropriate circle. Turning to Mulder again, I asked him to run and get a deerskin from our wigwam. When he handed it to me, I placed it in the need circle. Removing my gold cross, I placed it with Mulder's string. I had one more idea I was going to try before I tested them to see if they were grasping what I was saying. Dancing around, I began to squirm like a child who had to pee. Mulder began to laugh and everyone joined him. "Need," I said loudly to get their attention. Crooking my finger at Mulder, I got him to stand beside me. Then standing on my tiptoes, I surprised him with a passionate kiss. When I pulled away, Mulder looked a little dazed, making the women giggle. "Want," I smiled at them. With everyone watching, I ran to the stream and filled another bowl with water, held it between the circles and then looked at them questioningly. "Need," they all said enthusiastically. I smiled smugly at Mulder. Spotting an elaborate design on Migisi's moccasin, I motioned for her to give it to me and then asked everyone where it should go. "Need," some of them said decisively, dashing my hopes. I couldn't bring myself to turn and see the 'I told you so look' on Mulder's face. As I was wracking my brain to come up with something else, I was surprised to hear Wanik's voice. Shaking her head, she took Migisi's moccasin and put it in the want circle. Then she took her own plain moccasin and put it with the needs. A confused murmur ran through the on-lookers. So she picked up Migisi's moccasin and pointed to the design. "Want," she said clearly. In her own tongue she said something as she pointed to her plain one. "Need," she said proudly, grinning at me. "Yes," I clapped my hands as everyone began to nod in understanding. "Good work, Scully," Mulder smiled, sliding his arm around my waist. "Now comes the hard part." Walking over to the stream, we sat down and I dangled my feet in the cool water. My head was pounding -- it had been a long time since I taught anything, and I'd never found any class at Quantico that challenging. I stretched my neck from side to side trying to ease out the kinks. "It will make things easier, I'm sure," Mulder reassured me as he scooted behind me and began to rub my shoulders. "But I don't think any of us will be any happier about it," I sighed, leaning back against his hands. "At least now they'll understand that we don't want to go." Mulder was silent for a minute as he continued to work on my tense muscles. "I was wondering, Scully," he said finally. "What will it take to convince you?" "I'm not sure, Mulder. How far in the past do you think we are?" I avoided answering his question. "After the French and Indian Wars there weren't supposed to be any Fox Indians left in Wisconsin, so that would put us around the 1750s or '60's. If that's the case, we'll have a hard time finding any English-speaking people. There weren't any white settlers here until the 1830's, if memory serves. If we're pressed I might be able to speak passable French." "Then what? What if there aren't any settlers around here?" If Mulder was right, and we were in the past, this could be the 1600s. French missionaries had been in this area that early. Their influence could explain the presence of European tools in the village. "So you believe that we're in the past?" Mulder whispered in my ear. "I don't know what to believe," I groaned. "My head hurts too much to think about it." "Well, we'll find out shortly." He began to massage my temples. After we'd eaten dinner, Mulder gathered everyone around again. The sun was setting and dusk was filling the camp, so we stood beside the fire for the added light. He began by drawing a little village by a stream. Pointing at the encampment first, he then pointed to his picture. Everyone nodded in understanding. Then he lengthened his stream and pointed to the end away from the village. One of the men took the stick from Mulder and using his foot erased part of the stream. Then he showed the little stream flowing into a much bigger one that he'd represented with two lines. Mulder then lengthened those lines and tapped his stick at the end again. Taking the stick back, the same man then drew two circles -- lakes. "That's Madison, Scully," Mulder nodded towards the picture. Taking the stick again, he crouched down and drew some buildings between the two lakes and then looked up at the man questioningly. He nodded immediately. Mulder stood up and put his arm around me. "Dana, Mulder, need," he said emphatically, pointing towards his representation of Madison. There was some quiet murmuring and then my heart sank as silence fell over the suddenly somber people around us. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Title: Old Growth Forest, WIP, chapter 5 Rating: This chapter is PG. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In the first wave of consciousness that disrupted my sleep, I thought for an instant that I was at home in my bed. But then I felt Mulder's arm wrapped possessively around my waist and smelled the leathery scent of the robe that was covering us. It would have been an extremely pleasant way to wake up, if it hadn't been for the memory of telling our new friends that we had to leave. A small part of me wished that we didn't have to go; the setting was idyllic, the people so generous and kind. But how could I, in good conscience, stay when I wasn't positive what had happened to us? Mulder, of course, believed that we'd gone back in time, but it was only a hunch. I needed substantially more than Mulder's best guess to go on. So we were going to hike to what we hoped was Madison. Even though I knew it was the right thing to do, I was still a little depressed that we would have to leave this village and all of the wonderful people we'd met. "I'm not happy about it either," Mulder echoed my thoughts. "How'd you...?" I began. "You sighed." His voice was slightly muffled because he had burrowed his nose into my hair. "But you still think we have to go?" I turned in his arms as I spoke. "What if I'm wrong? It *has* happened before, once or twice." A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Uh huh." I couldn't keep the 'whatever' tone out of my voice. "What would happen if we aren't in the past? Suppose someone eventually tracked us down, happily living in our woodland paradise? How do you think 'we thought we were in the past' would go over?" I had to chuckle at the thought of that testimony in front of a review board. "So we're going for different reasons? You're trying to prove that you're right and I'm trying to prove that you're not?" I clarified. "They *do* say that opposites attract, Scully." The richness of Mulder's tone created a delicious tingling in my belly. Before I could respond, his lips were on mine, his tongue gently seeking entrance to my mouth. We kissed languidly, slowly savoring each other; no longer feeling any urgency, but simply relishing the fact that we could now enjoy each other this way. "Don't think this'll change my mind." I pulled out of the kiss to warn him breathlessly. "Maybe I'll just distract you for a little while," he chuckled before capturing my lips again. His hand was drifting from my waist up toward my breast when a sound behind us startled me. It wasn't that I was surprised that someone would come into our wigwam unannounced, I was getting used to that. After our announcement last night, I wasn't expecting to be treated like company anymore. "Good morning, Wanik," I smiled as I turned to face her. As she handed me our breakfast she gave me a sad smile. Then after picking up my dress that had been folded at the foot of the bed, handed it to me and nodded toward the door. "Okay," I nodded as I hurriedly began to eat my breakfast. Smiling again, she backed out of the wigwam.. "I think you were just told to hustle your ass," Mulder grinned at me. "Just as long as it's not the bum's rush." I couldn't figure out why she was in such a hurry. "I'm sure she just wants your help with something," Mulder tried to reassure me. "Or maybe she wants an encore of the pee-pee dance." By the time I went looking for Wanik, the encampment was buzzing with activity. The men were nowhere in sight, but the women were all busier than I'd ever seen them. I found Wanik crouched by a small fire. In a rough wooden bowl, she was mixing some kind of dough. Her face lit up when she saw me and she patted the ground beside her. Once I was settled, she took a cast iron skillet and set it on some stones that held it above the fire. Then she picked up a small leather pouch and she scooped out some grease and put it in the pan. Every so often she would glance up at me to make sure I was watching. Using her hand, she took some of the dough and formed it into a ball. Then she began to flatten it by patting it back and forth between her hands. When the grease in the pan had melted, she quickly set the dough in the pan and flattened it further by pressing on it with her palm, spreading it out to fill the pan. After waiting for a minute or two, she began to gently spin the cooking dough around in the skillet. When it reached some secret stage, she quickly flipped it over, using just her fingers. The top side of what I now recognized as bannock was golden brown. Even though I'd just finished breakfast, the smell was making my mouth water. A couple of minutes later, Wanik took the pan off of the fire and slid the finished bannock onto a deerskin. Once she'd replaced the skillet on the fire, she handed the pouch of grease to me. It was then that I finally realized that I was getting a cooking lesson. So I began to mimic the steps that Wanik had shown me. My first attempt turned out a little on the crispy side and Mulder, who had joined the few women who were watching the spectacle, laughed at my blackened bread. "You want to try?" I motioned for him to take my place. "Nope, you're doing just fine," he backpedaled rapidly, his hands up in surrender. "I thought as much," I huffed as I continued with my second attempt, which I ended up under-cooking. It took all of the dough that Wanik had mixed before I finally managed to cook one properly. When I looked for Mulder to gloat, I couldn't see him anywhere. As it turned out, it didn't matter; Wanik wasn't through with me yet. Taking the bowl that the dough had been in, she filled it halfway again from a nearby sack. It looked like whole-wheat flour, but I knew there had to be more to it than that. Using warm water from another fire, she showed me how to mix and knead the dough. When we were done, I'd become fairly proficient at bannock making. Before I had a chance to look for Mulder, Wanik started to show me how to make the venison and wild rice stew that was a staple here. Mulder was right; we weren't being shown the door, we were being given the tools to survive on our journey. I took Wanik into my arms to try to show her my appreciation, and she was puzzled by my action. Then I backed up and tried to smile and say thank you, but my mouth wobbled and tears clouded my eyes. I was worried that she didn't understand how grateful I was, but she pulled me back into an embrace, patted by back and murmured softly. When we parted, the tears shining in her eyes made me well up all over again. But I didn't have time to wallow in my sorrow; Wanik still wasn't done with me. After we ate a quick lunch, she began to pack foodstuffs into a haversack. With the exception of the meat, she packed everything that I would need to make what we had practiced earlier. In the middle of the packing, Mulder showed up looking for food. With a roll of her eyes, Wanik handed him a bowl and a wooden spoon and sent him off in the direction of a pot of stew that had been simmering all morning. Wanik, it seemed to me, thought men were all the same. I watched carefully as Wanik packed. She showed me everything that went in. The sight of salt, oatmeal, and whole-wheat flour surprised me. They weren't commodities that I associated with Native Americans; at least not traditionally. With the cookware that we'd used and this food, I came to the conclusion that if Mulder was right and we were in the past, we weren't as far back as he thought. Once Wanik had finished packing, she had me wait for a minute while she dashed off toward her wigwam. Now that we'd spent a few days here, I was starting to figure out some of the family connections. Wanik still lived in a wigwam with her parents. Originally, I'd thought that she was in her early twenties, but now I had a feeling that she was younger than that. There was nothing specific I could point to, it was just a feeling. I'd seen some of the younger men trying to get her attention, but she didn't seem to notice. Most of the other girls her age were already attached, and a few of them were pregnant. Wanik was a very pretty girl and it made me wonder why she didn't pay any attention to any of the young men who obviously liked her. I did assume that in this society, she wouldn't have much choice in who she was partnered with. I wondered if she'd already been promised to someone--maybe in another tribe. Then I shook my head slightly as I realized that I was starting to think as if Mulder was right about where we were. If we'd only been able to communicate more easily, so many questions could have been answered. My thoughts were interrupted by Wanik reappearing, her arms full of cooking implements--two little tin pots, a small skillet, three bowls and various utensils. Hoping that she would recognize my words of gratitude, I thanked her again. It was suppertime before Mulder and I had a chance to talk again, sitting in front of a small fire near our wigwam. But he wouldn't tell me what he'd been up to all day, saying that he'd been sworn to secrecy. "I'm a man of my word, Scully," he responded dryly when I tried to coax it out of him. "You'll find out soon enough." I went back to my food, trying not to care that he was keeping something from me, but the suspense was killing me. "How'd your cooking lesson go?" Mulder tried to restart our conversation. "Fine," I replied snappishly, instantly regretting my tone. "Scully," Mulder leaned over to whisper, "I would tell you but I promised. You wouldn't want me to break my word and ruin the surprise would you?" "I guess not," I admitted, but I still didn't feel any better about it. "Your feet seem to be completely healed." Mulder changed the subject. "Pretty much," I agreed. "It's a good thing, too. I've got a long walk ahead of me in bare feet." "You should be fine in the woods. It looks like your soles have started to toughen up already." He nodded at my feet. He had taken to walking around barefoot too. His dress shoes just didn't suit his breeches. "I used to go barefoot in the summer all of time. The soles of my feet would be like leather, come September." I thought back to all of the time spent on different, yet almost identical bases. All of the kids ran wild in the summer--almost controlling the place. Even the MPs gave way to us on the streets. I was still thinking about Kool-Aid and homemade popsicles when Mulder asked me if I was done with my bowl. I looked up to see Wanik standing there, patiently waiting for me to finish. "Why do you think it's Wanik that's always looking after us?" Mulder wondered aloud when she'd gone. "I'm guessing that it's because she has no one else to look after. It was easier than burdening someone who had a family," I suggested with a shrug. "I wonder why she doesn't have anyone to look after? Seems to me that she'd be a good catch." Mulder mirrored my earlier thoughts. "I wondered the same thing, but I doubt we'll ever know, Mulder." "Mmm," he replied vaguely, apparently lost in his own thoughts. Twilight had settled over us and the warmth of the day vanished almost immediately. "Maybe we should call it a day." I rubbed my bare arms, trying to warm them up. "If we're leaving tomorrow, we should get some sleep." "It's a bit early yet, Scully," Mulder chuckled. "C'mere, I'll warm you up if you're cold. Or were you hoping that I'd warm you up in the wigwam?" He waggled his eyebrows at me. "Do you ever think about anything besides sex?" I shook my head. "Let me see." Mulder spoke slowly and rubbed his chin thoughtfully before his armed whipped out and snagged me around the waist. He dragged me, giggling, onto his lap. "Not really," he whispered into my ear before his lips began to tug on my earlobe. "Occasionally I think about global conspiracies." His hand was slowly sliding up the inside of my thigh. "Cases sometimes distract me from thinking about sex, but more often than not, dreaming about having sex with you would distract me from a case." "Oh yeah?" I murmured huskily. "And there is that obscenely overdue triple X bill," he reminded me, barely lifting his lips from my neck. "I think that still counts as sex," I argued half-heartedly. The truth was, I was enjoying being warmed up too much to care. I turned my face to his, seeking his mouth. His hand wandered perilously close to the juncture of my thighs as we kissed. A soft shuffling sound made me open my eyes. "Mulder," I broke our kiss. "Hmm?" His lips settled on my neck again. "We have company." Our small fire was surrounded by almost every member of the village. Namid sat down opposite us, and everyone joined him, circling the fire. There wasn't enough room left for me to slide off of Mulder's lap, but he slowly eased his hand out from under my dress. I don't think we fooled anyone, but I don't think they cared either. Namid began to make a speech, and despite his gesturing and the fact that I recognized some names, I couldn't follow what he was saying. Suddenly Wanik stood up, and taking her hands from behind her back, she held out a pair of moccasins to me. Scrambling out of Mulder's lap, I stood up to accept them. I recognized them instantly as the pair I'd seen her working on by the fire. Each top had been decorated with a sun of yellow and orange beads; the rays reaching the outer seams. "Wanik, they are beautiful," I sighed. "But you went to so much work." She smiled joyfully at me as I ran my fingers over the beadwork. "I can't thank you enough." Lowering her eyes shyly, she returned to her seat. "Did you know about this," I accused Mulder once I'd settled into his lap again. "Nope." He shook his head. "Honestly," he swore when I turned to look at him sharply. "I had an idea, but I wasn't sure." I was busily admiring my new shoes when Abequa, one of the grandmothers that Mulder liked to flirt with, stood up. She, too, held out a pair of moccasins, but these were larger, intended for Mulder. When I started to get up, Abequa motioned for me to stay put and handed the shoes to Mulder. "You knew about these?" I leaned back to ask. "That's why you suspected that I'd be getting a pair?" "Mine were made today," he confirmed. "Abequa measured me for them this morning." Namid started to speak again, so Mulder and I listened politely. As he spoke, he stood up and everyone but Mulder and I gasped. Shrugging out of the vest he was wearing, he presented it to Mulder. This time I got out of Mulder's lap and when he stood up, the chief helped him into the vest. The front was adorned with suns similar to the ones on my moccasins, but the back featured a large picture of a fox. Mulder was speechless; not a condition I'd seen him afflicted with often. "Say something, Mulder." I jabbed him in the ribs. "Smile, anything." "Thank you, Namid." Mulder's voice was laden with awe. Then everyone stood up and began to talk at once. It appeared that Namid giving up his vest was a major event. Standing behind Mulder as he was congratulated by the men, I studied the design on his back. Red, black and white beads combined to create a fox, standing on its hind legs, looking up and to the left. In a semi-circle above the fox's head, floated 7 blue stars. Although it was merely a coincidence, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I was still looking at Mulder's vest in amazement when I heard Omiga's voice. Everybody stopped milling around and sat down again. Omiga made a speech of his own and then motioned for Mulder and me to stand up. Then he turned to retrieve two bowls that were on the ground behind the circle. I cringed inwardly, but tried to keep the smile on my face. As long as it wasn't like that first drink he gave me, I'd be fine. It turned out to be like neither the first or the second; it was very sweet--almost syrupy. When we handed the bowls back to Omiga and thanked him, Namid clapped his hands together twice. There was some scurrying about and then I saw several of the men formed into a small circle. The beating of a drum began, followed by the rise and fall of their voices. Around them, all of the young, unattached men of the village began to dance. The clothes and make-up they wore weren't as elaborate as I'd seen in pictures, but far grander than anything I'd seen here. The women bowed their heads together and murmured as they watched. One of the little boys got up and began to mimic his elders, making everyone smile. When the dancing stopped, the drumming continued. Once the drumming faded away, one of the grandmothers stood and spoke. Everyone listened in rapt attention as she talked. At the end of her story, there was more murmuring, and the crowd began to disperse. With all of the reveling, it ended up being quite late before we finally got to bed. I had been worried that we had offended these people by saying we had to go, but they seemed to understand completely. We couldn't ask for better friends. When we needed help, they gave it to us--fed, clothed, and sheltered us just as Mulder had said. And now that we were leaving, they were giving us everything we could need for the trip, and they'd given us a going-away party to boot. As I lay in Mulder's arms drifting off to sleep, I thought about everything that had happened and what was yet to come. But even the thought of our upcoming journey couldn't keep me awake. The sun hadn't yet begun to burn off the early morning mist when Wanik woke us. After a quick breakfast, Nawkaw helped Mulder and me sling our haversacks. Pots hung from my pack, and the skillet from Mulder's. Then we were each given a waterskin to carry over our shoulders. With all of the commotion, I didn't notice that someone else was being loaded up as well; it was Apram. It had never occurred to me that we'd be given a guide. And if it had, I never would have expected it to be the chief's son. In the little time we were given to say goodbye, I gave Omiga and Wanik each a quick hug. Mulder shook Namid's hand, but before I had a chance to thank the chief myself, Apram was hurrying us out of the village. I tried to wave to everyone, repeating all of the names I could remember. Mulder was more stoic, but judging from the way his jaw was clenched, I could tell that he was going to miss these people as much as I was. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author: Andrea Title: Old Growth Forest, WIP, chapter 6 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Our journey was familiar at first; we followed the path back toward the raspberry patch. My moccasins felt heavenly and we were making good time, despite the weight of the packs we were carrying. It was also easier to cover more distance when I wasn't wearing those ridiculous shoes. By the time the sun was overhead, we had passed the spot where Mulder and I had built the lean-to. My stomach was just beginning to complain when Apram reached into a pouch that he had tied around his waist. He produced some bannock and strips of dried meat and doled them out. I didn't know if I was going to like the meat, but I tried it anyway. Apram didn't stop; we ate as we continued to walk. Sweat trickled down my back and my legs were starting to quiver. I'd thought I was in better shape. Apram sighed impatiently when I had to stop to relieve myself. He and Mulder seemed fine; their bladders were obviously bigger than mine. When we were underway again, Apram increased his pace. I almost had to trot to keep up. When I saw that the sun was low in the western sky, I assumed that we'd be stopping soon, but Apram pushed on. I was beginning to fear that he was going to walk all night when I heard an unfamiliar sound. At first it was barely a whisper, but it gradually became louder. The big river, I realized finally. "Maybe he wanted to make it to the river before we stopped," Mulder ventured, as if he'd read my thoughts. "God, I hope so," I muttered. "I can't keep up this pace, Mulder. I practically had to run to keep up with you two." "Why didn't you say something?" He turned to look at me. "I didn't want to slow us down. Apram is doing us a really big favor and I don't want to appear ungrateful," I explained. "I'll see if I can get him to slow down," Mulder offered, turning and quickening his pace. "No, Mulder," I called after him, but he waved me off. He had no sooner caught up to Apram than the trees thinned out and a large river spread out before us. Our guide stopped and lowered his pack to the ground. As soon as I caught up to them, I did the same and then sank to the ground. Mulder took one of the pots and fetched some water from the stream. I drank it quickly. Apram had disappeared back into the woods. "I'll get him to take it easier tomorrow, Scully." Mulder crouched down beside me and pushed some sweaty clumps of hair off of my face. "My legs were done in by noon," he confessed. "There is no way I can take another day like this, Mulder." As we spoke, Apram reappeared carrying some firewood. In no time he had built a little fire. When it was burning brightly, he turned to me and nodded towards the fire. It took a minute, but I slowly realized that I was expected to cook. All of my muscles were quivering and my back ached and he wanted me to prepare the food. But with everything that he had done for Mulder and me, I could hardly say no. So I nodded at him. "I'll help," Mulder offered quickly when he realized what Apram had asked. It took some time to get a few stones from the riverbank arranged so that I could use the skillet, but Wanik had taught me well, and bannock making was almost second nature. When the bread was done, Apram gave me more of the jerky. It took another game of charades for me to understand that he wanted me to stew it with some wild rice. We ate most of the bannock while the stew cooked. The wild rice began to split just as the jerky grew soft. The smokiness of the meat was wonderful with the nutty flavor of the rice. Neither Apram or Mulder complained about the food; they barely stopped to take a breath as they ate. Then they divided what was left in the pot between them, after Mulder first offered some to me. Apram even wiped the pot out with the last of his bannock. I smiled appreciatively at Mulder when he gathered up the dishes and took them to the stream. Apram took out his knife and began to whittle a piece of wood; I wondered sleepily what he was making. The fire cracked and popped, drawing my attention. The dancing flames had a mesmerizing effect. I heard Mulder's voice and realized that I must have drifted off. When I dragged my eyes open, sunlight assaulted them. I was under a blanket, and Mulder was spooned up to me, grumbling. I turned to find Apram shaking Mulder's shoulder. He was grinning broadly and shaking his head. After I'd shaken the cobwebs out of my head, I discovered that it was fairly late, much later than we'd left the day before. But I could've easily slept for another couple of hours. Apram had the fire burning steadily for me. I knew without being asked that I was expected to make breakfast. When I started to rummage through my pack, Mulder graciously offered to help again, but I assured him that I could manage breakfast by myself. It took no time until the porridge was bubbling away. Apram surprised me by handing me the other pot, which he had filled with blueberries. The berries turned the bland gruel into a treat. When we'd finished breakfast, Apram confused me by pointing to the skillet. Then he showed me his waist pouch, conspicuously empty of bannock. So before I packed up, I quickly fried some up. After I'd made one batch, he asked me to make another. I agreed, assuming that he'd thought we were a bit short yesterday. As soon as we were on our way again, Apram set his torturous pace. It took some convincing, but we got him to slow down. He wasn't impressed, but he consented. I hated to make demands, but I couldn't repeat yesterday's pace. We weren't strolling now, but at least I had time to look at the scenery. The forest was impressive; I'd never seen oak trees that big. To our left, the river flowed rapidly, sparkling in the sunlight. The constant rush of water filled my ears. The air was cooler and smelled fresher here. Wildlife was abundant; we startled several deer as we walked. At one point Apram stopped and pointed across the river. Ambling through the undergrowth, on his way to the water, was the largest black bear I'd ever seen. I was thankful that the river separated us. Although my legs were sore, I wasn't having any trouble keeping up today. Mulder even took my hand as we walked behind Apram. "It's beautiful here, isn't it?" Mulder nodded toward the trees. "It is, and so peaceful," I sighed. "Those oaks are enormous. I don't think I've ever seen one that big." From his tone I could tell that he wanted me to take his comment further. "So, from that you think, what? That we aren't in Wisconsin after all?" I tried to figure out what he was thinking. "No, my point was, I don't think there are any deciduous forests left like this in North America. The lumber barons stripped the land clean of trees like these. There might be an occasional giant oak left, but miles upon miles of them...?" He let his voice trail off. I couldn't argue this point; he was right. We'd seen giant redwoods on the west coast, but I'd never seen a forest like this east of the Rockies. We walked on in silence, Mulder apparently content to let me mull over these new considerations. A short time later, Apram meted out the bannock and dried meat. As we ate, I continued to look around. I thought about all of the ground that we had covered without seeing another soul. "Maybe we're in a National Forest?" I offered suddenly. "Maybe," Mulder shrugged, but I knew he wasn't convinced. I hadn't even convinced myself, but I still couldn't accept his time travel theory. I knew it was a remote possibility, but it was so far-fetched. Dr. Mettler would had to have been so far ahead of his time *and* working in isolation; no partner to help him when he got bogged down, to see things from a different perspective. Maybe he *had* figured out how to create a stable wormhole, but the energy he would've needed was phenomenal. His electricity provider would have noticed immediately. I was still chasing it round and round in my head when the noise from the river increased dramatically, interrupting my thoughts. The river had become wider and shallower; the sound I heard, a set of rapids. When we were beside them, they were too loud to be heard over. Apram pointed across the river and then took off his moccasins. Stepping from stone to stone, he picked his way to the opposite bank. I went next, moccasins in hand, making sure that the stones I chose were dry. The water was shallow, but the current was swift enough to carry a person away. When I landed on dry ground and turned around, I was shocked to find Mulder right behind me--I hadn't heard a thing. My heart was still pounding when Apram picked up a stick and began draw in the dirt. Shortly he'd recreated the map that Mulder had drawn back at the village. His version showed the village, the stream, the river, and the ford that we had just crossed. Beyond that he extended the river to where it emptied into a lake. Then he drew a line around the east end of the lake and pointed to the area that Mulder thought was Madison. Mulder nodded to let Apram know that he understood. After tossing his stick back onto the ground, Apram opened his waist pack and took out most of the jerky and handed it to me. When I looked at him in confusion, he pointed to himself and then back across the river. Without another word or gesture, he turned and stepped from stone to stone again until he'd reached the western bank. I watched in stunned silence as he stooped to put his moccasins back on and then start to walk back the way we'd come. When I turned to look at Mulder, his eyes were wide with shock too. "I guess we're on our own now." He raised his voice to be heard over the rapids. My head bobbed slightly in response; I was still too overwhelmed to speak. Mulder took the meat that I was still clutching and put it in my pack. Then he took my hand and we started to walk downstream. Once the roar of the whitewater was behind us, it was easier to converse. "I think he brought us this far to show us where to cross the river. It's fairly straightforward from here on." Mulder gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "I know we'll be fine, Mulder. I just thought he'd stay with us all the way." "I think we should find a nice place to stop and camp for the night." He changed the subject. "After yesterday, I'll be happy to take it a little easier today," I laughed. "We can set an easier pace; no sense in wearing ourselves out. It's mid-afternoon anyway." He nodded toward the sun. "I'd really like to take a bath." I wrinkled my nose. "And I don't even want to know what my hair looks like." I hadn't been able to wash my hair in over a week. I'd rinsed in the stream and combed it with my fingers; but after getting so sweaty yesterday, it didn't bear thinking about. "It's not that bad," Mulder assured me. "A little bit wild, but I like wild." He grinned mischievously at me. As we spoke we approached a bend in the river. There, the banks became less steep and a few willows graced a grassy plateau; the huge oaks having given way. "I'd say this is the place." Mulder looked to me for concurrence. "It's one beautiful vista after another here, isn't it?" I could envision picnickers or campers choosing this spot. It was perfect; grass, shade and a crystal clear river. "Do you want to sleep out in the open again tonight?" Mulder scanned the area. "As long as we have a fire, I think we'll be fine. We have a couple of blankets; the ground is dry." I took stock. "Al fresco, it is," Mulder said decisively, then helped me off with my pack. "I'll go hunt for some firewood," he told me after he'd slid his own pack off. "You don't mind if I go for a bath now, do you?" I was anxious to be rid of the layer of sweat and dirt that was covering me. "Go right ahead, I'll be in to join you as soon as I can." He smiled and then traipsed off into the trees. After I'd stripped off my dress, I gave it a wary sniff, but it didn't smell bad at all, just the rich scent of the leather. So I laid it on the grass and set my moccasins beside it. Then I walked carefully down the gentle slope that led to the river. This water was cooler than the stream near the village, but I got used to it quickly. The bottom was rocky and the current fast, so I knew I wouldn't have to worry about leeches. Once I was in the water, the only way I could wash was by rubbing my skin with my hands, but it would have to do. The hardest part was getting my hair wet. The water seemed so much colder to my head, but I had to clean it somehow. I decided that the best way to wash it would be to stand in water that was about mid-thigh deep, facing downstream, and then bend over to immerse my head. While underwater, I scrubbed my scalp with my fingers. When I straightened up, I flipped my hair back and squeezed some of the water out of it. After I'd caught my breath, I dunked my head again. This time I rubbed my hair between my palms. Once I'd repeated that a few times, I waded back into the river until the water was shoulder deep. After turning around, I laid my head back in the water and let the water flow through it. Using my fingers, I managed to get most of the tangles out. Feeling rejuvenated, I'd started back toward shore, squeezing water out of my hair as I went, when something caught my eye. I looked up to find Mulder standing in the grass, just watching me. The look on his face was almost predatory and even with the distance that separated us, I could see the prominent bulge in his pants. The sight of him watching me made my stomach flip-flop. Trying to remain nonchalant, I continued to walk slowly towards the shore. Mulder's eyes never left me and he didn't move a muscle. When I reached the bank, I could hear his labored breathing. "I thought you were going to join me." I kept my tone casual. "I changed my mind." The smokiness in his voice stoked the fire that was already burning in my belly. I was only a few feet away from him now; he still hadn't moved. "The water was nice--very refreshing." I informed him coolly. "Mmm." His eyes traveled up and down the length of my body. I felt glorious. I loved the way he was looking at me, his desire for me so blatant. I felt positively hedonistic standing naked in front of him. Although the river had cooled my skin, I could feel it beginning to heat up under his gaze. "Why did you change your mind?" I reached up and squeezed some more water out of my hair. A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "I *was* on my way to join you," he told me softly, running a finger across my cheek. "But when I got here, I had to stop and watch." "Why?" I looked up into his hazy hazel eyes. "To watch you, in the water," he admitted. "You were watching me? For how long?" I wondered if he noticed that my voice had become husky. "You were washing your hair and when you straightened up, the water just slid off of you--cascading over your breasts." His hand left my cheek and followed the path that he'd described. When his fingertips brushed my already taut nipples, I drew in a quick breath. His touch had made my breasts begin to ache with pleasure. At my reaction, Mulder's eyes darkened further and his breathing became more ragged. "You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" he breathed as he leaned in to kiss me. My tongue had barely touched his, when he was gone again. His lips had found my neck, and he was gently nipping at my skin. My mouth wanted him back desperately, but what he was doing felt too good; I didn't want to stop him. He quickly moved on to my shoulders and then my chest. Managing to open my eyes, I found him kneeling upright in front of me; his face level with my breasts. Why had I ever complained about being short? His hands were resting firmly on my ass, and as he began to place feathery kisses in the valley between my breasts, he gently caressed each cheek. My hips rolled forward, pressing my sex against his diaphragm. When his hot mouth latched onto my nipple, my knees buckled and I leaned even more heavily against him. He hummed against me, creating wonderful vibrations that I felt between my legs. Mulder no longer seemed rushed; he licked, sucked and nibbled on my left breast until I was squirming against him. He must have felt how wet he was making me. I had to cling to his shoulders to stay upright and my eyes had drifted closed again. An exquisite eternity passed before he decided to give my right breast the same attention. A low moan escaped my throat when his mouth closed around my areola and his tongue flicked my nipple. I'd discovered a long time ago that my right breast was more sensitive than my left, so Mulder's ministrations were making me dizzy with delight. In the fog of my lust, I heard his voice asking me to lie down. Without opening my eyes, I complied immediately. I could feel his hands carefully guiding me. The grass felt cool on my heated flesh. Dragging my eyes open, I discovered that Mulder was still kneeling beside me. His lips seemed slightly swollen, and his eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them. Reaching over, I began to loosen the laces on the left side of his breeches. He began to work on the right; his eyes never leaving mine. When we'd lowered his pants to mid-thigh, my eyes were drawn to his erection. Almost of its own volition, my hand closed around his shaft and began to stroke him slowly. When I lifted my eyes to look at him, I found that his eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted. I continued to watch his face as I caressed him. His head lolled backwards and his eyelids fluttered. When his eyes flew open, I stopped stroking him instantly. Neither of us said a word, but our eyes remained locked as he stood to completely remove his breeches. After he kicked them aside, he knelt between my parted thighs. Then he leaned forward and kissed me. He kissed me the way I'd expected him to earlier; deeply, his tongue delving into my mouth demandingly. He was demanding what I was aching to give him. I could feel the head of his cock, hot and hard against my opening, but he wasn't moving. I realized that I'd brought him very close, and he was trying to compose himself. So I wiggled around to try to get him inside of me, but he held himself back. My super-sensitized flesh was throbbing against him. I moved my hands to his ass to try to show him what I needed. I couldn't speak; our mouths were too busy. When I pulled him towards me, he growled into my mouth and plunged into me with one smooth, powerful stroke. I came instantly, shuddering around him. When he thrust into me again, I was still shaking, the aftershocks continuing to course through me. He was driving into me now with a force I'd never experienced before. My body accepted his power willingly, rejoicing each time we collided. Too short of breath, our lips had to part, and Mulder pressed his cheek against mine. I felt his muscles tighten and his body begin to quake. The anticipation of his climax sent another surge of excitement through me. I felt his cock begin to pulse and we shuddered together as his orgasm sent me over the edge again; the sounds of his rapture increasing the thrill for me. We lay there, quivering and panting. When our breathing began to slow; Mulder began to kiss me softly, gently sucking on my lips, his hand in my hair. I was lightly massaging his back, and enjoying the curve of his ass. His lips drifted over my cheek to my ear, and he began to nuzzle it. I was lost in this tender afterplay when a low rumbling sound made me open my eyes. "Sorry," Mulder apologized. "Hungry?" I laughed. "I'll be fine," he assured me as his lips returned to my ear. "It's getting late, Mulder," I argued. "And we have a lot to do before we eat. I should take another quick dip and you haven't had a bath yet. Then you still have to get the fire--" "Okay, okay," he chuckled, raising himself up on his elbow. "But I'm reserving some snuggle time for later." "In front of the fire," I agreed, smiling at him. After rinsing the grass out of my hair, I stood in the late afternoon sunlight to dry before I slipped my dress back on. As we had the previous night, we ate most of the bannock before the stew was ready. By the time we'd rinsed the dishes out in the river, the sun had set, leaving a darkening purple haze in its wake. Even though it was still early, I was sleepy. My internal clock now seemed to be tuned to the sun. I was having a difficult time keeping my eyes open. Being snuggled up to Mulder under a blanket, beside the fire, only heightened the effect. I hoped that he thought that falling asleep in his arms counted as snuggle time. The next morning, the third since we'd left village, I was up with the sun. I'd made the day's bannock before Mulder woke up. After a quick breakfast, we continued on our trek. The scenery was still amazing and we saw no sign of human beings, Indian or otherwise. We saw more deer and some rabbits, but I was very relieved that we didn't encounter any more bears. As Apram had taught us, we ate our lunch as we walked. When the sun began to sink, we found a spot to camp. It wasn't as nice as our previous site, but it was still lovely. "How much further do you think it is?" I looked over at Mulder as I stirred our stew. "I didn't think to ask that, but judging from the amount of jerky that we have left, another day and a half." He was leaning up against our packs watching me. "What if that was based on Apram's pace?" I was worried about our food supply. "I think they would have taken into account that we'd be slower. Besides, we won't starve if we run out of meat. There's still plenty of oatmeal and wild rice, and I can catch some fish if we need them." He tried to ease my fears. "If we're a day and half outside of Madison, Mulder, shouldn't we have run into someone by now?" "Not if I'm right, Scully." There was no hint of gloating in his voice. For the first time since I'd known him, I got the impression that Mulder didn't want to be right. The next day followed the same pattern that Apram had set for the trip. Every now and then we had to take off our moccasins to wade through a little stream that fed the river, but we saw no sign of people. We'd been hiking for a few hours on our fifth morning out when the river began to curve towards the east, and the trees beside it began to dwindle away. Soon the water was bordered by grassland. We were surprised to see a faint path in the grass. Actually, two paths that were separated by a grassy strip that looked somewhat trampled. We looked to see where the path had come from, but it disappeared in the tall grasses. We were still looking toward the east when a black spot appeared on the horizon amidst the sea of grasses. In silent agreement, we stood motionless and watched as the spot grew larger. When my eyes finally began to distinguish a shape, I blinked several times in disbelief. I glanced up at Mulder to find a resigned look on his face. "Maybe we can catch a ride?" he shrugged. The team of large brown horses that were hitched to a wagon-load of hay would be upon us soon. The driver lifted his hat and waved to us with a flourish when he saw us. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Title: Old Growth Forest, WIP, chapter 7 Rating: This chapter is NC-17. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As we stood watching the wagon approach, I could see the emotions I was feeling mirrored on the driver's face; shock, confusion and amazement. "What in tarnation happened to you folks?" It was the first English Mulder and I had heard in over a week. "Excuse my boldness," he apologized quickly. "I just never did see white folks dressed this way before." "That's all right, sir," Mulder answered quickly. "My wife and I were on our way to Madison when we were waylaid--they stole our horses, our wagon and left us in the woods. If we hadn't been found by Indians, I don't like to think what might have become of us." I was amazed Mulder could fabricate a story so quickly. But then again, he had believed for a while now that we were in the past, so perhaps he'd been giving it some thought. "What's this country coming to, I'd like to know, when God-fearing people have to endure things like this? It's a darn shame!" He shook his head. "Excuse my language, ma'am," he apologized again without looking at me. "My name is Ebenezer Peck, but folks call me Eben." He extended his hand to Mulder. "Fox Mulder." Mulder shook Mr. Peck's hand firmly. "And this is my wife, Dana." "Fox, that's an unusual name," Mr. Peck commented. "It was my mother's maiden name," Mulder told him. "Ah," Mr. Pecked nodded. "Well, I look forward to being more properly introduced when we can find you some clothes, Mrs. Mulder. It's appalling the way these Indians dress." He looked everywhere but at me. "They *did* save our lives," Mulder pointed out. "I have heard tell that there are *some* good Indians." Mr. Peck's tone was harsh. I had to bite my lip to keep from saying something I'd regret. Getting into a debate about early American policies regarding Native Americans wouldn't serve any purpose right now. "If you folks don't mind riding in the hay, I can take you to the town site. I run a boarding house there with my wife, Rosaline. We got a Congregationalist preacher staying with us right now and I know for a fact that he's brought some clothes with him. Of course, they were intended for the naked Indians, but you folks are needing them more." Mr. Peck raised his voice as Mulder and I walked to the back of the hay-wagon. After Mulder helped me up and then climbed up into the hay with me, he told Mr. Peck that we were all set. "So where do you folks hail from?" Mr. Peck inquired after he chirruped to the horses. "Chicago," Mulder lied. "And what brings you to the frontier?" "Looking to get a fresh start," Mulder told him, shrugging his shoulders at me as he spoke. "Well, then you've come to the right place. Madison might just be the territorial capital right now, but Wisconsin'll be a state soon, sure-as-shootin'," Peck gloated. "That's why the missus and me pulled up stakes and left Blue Mounds to settle here. You can't just sit around waiting for your fortune to find you, you got to go out and hunt it down for your own self." "You won't get any argument from me," Mulder chuckled. "It's just a shame that spunky folks like you should get your dreams dashed by horse thieves and no-account scoundrels. There ain't even any law here to speak of. The outlaws always manage to get to a place first." "Even if the law was here, there is so much wilderness, how could they protect it all?" Mulder spoke up. "That's something," Peck agreed. "But you folks needn't worry. I know for a fact that they are short of men for building the capital, not to mention the new hotel that's going up on King Street. And Mrs. Peck sure could use another pair of hands to help with the chores. We got forty men staying with us. Why, I caught her sizing me up for an apron, just the other day." Mulder and I had to laugh. Eben Peck seemed nice enough, even though I didn't like the way he talked about Indians. I would have to take the good with the bad. As the innkeeper continued to chat, the realization that Mulder was right finally began to sink in. We *were* in the past; Wisconsin wasn't even a state yet. For the first time since we'd woken up in the woods, I was truly terrified. Questions were swirling around in my mind; were we trapped here? How would we cope? Would anyone realize what had happened to us? Tears sprang to my eyes as I thought about my mother. "It's okay, Scully. We'll be okay." I heard Mulder whisper. I looked up to find him studying my face, his brow furrowed in concern. I opened my mouth to speak, but all I could do was draw a shaky breath. Mulder reached out and cradled my face with his hand. "As long as we have each other, we'll be all right." Then he pressed his lips to my forehead and that simple action was enough to calm me down. I was still clinging to Mulder, breathing in his familiar scent to relax myself, when the sound of the horse's hooves grew much louder. Scrambling through the hay to the side of the wagon, I discovered we were crossing a wooden bridge. A river flowed beneath us, and the lake that was its source spread out before my eyes. "This here is Sherman Avenue," Mr. Peck informed us. In the distance, I could see some low buildings huddled together. >From their midst rose the wooden skeleton of a much larger building; the capital building I assumed. Beside us was nothing but grass, stumps, and mud. Surveyor's stakes dotted the landscape; the townsite seemed to have been laid out already. As we turned onto each new street, Mr. Peck would announce its name. "This is Canal Street," and "This here is Butler Street, where me and the missus built our boarding house." I'm not sure what I expected, but I was surprised to find Mr. Peck's establishment was built out of logs. As he pulled the wagon around to the back of the building, I began to hear the ringing of hammers and the rasping of saws. The smell of manure had begun almost as soon as we'd crossed the first bridge at Sherman Avenue and kept getting stronger. Here by the stable the stench was extremely pungent. I realized what the culprit was when I saw a large pile of dirty hay and manure to the right of the barn. Mulder chuckled when I wrinkled my nose. "Now you folks wait here. I'm going to make sure there aren't any men lingering after their dinner break. Most of these men ain't seen any women but Rosaline in almost two months. So I think it would pretty near start a riot if I was to parade a naked woman in front of them," Mr. Peck explained as he climbed down from his perch. "You hussy!" Mulder smirked at me when we were alone. "Shut up, Mulder." I swatted at him. I could feel my face was flaming; I was mortified that I was causing such a commotion. Barely a minute had passed since the innkeeper disappeared inside before a short plump woman came hurrying out. "Oh my land!" she gasped. "You poor thing. Let's get you inside. And you," she turned to Mulder. "Stay here and help Eben with this hay and then I'll find some clothes for you, too. Why it's a disgrace to snakes what happens to decent folks when there's no law around." "Yes, ma'am," Mulder nodded solemnly. "I'm Rosaline," Mrs. Peck informed me as she led me by the hand into the dark building. "It's a good thing that Reverend Foster brought that missionary barrel with him. The closest dry goods store is in Milwaukee. I suppose we could've altered some of my clothes, but you're such a wisp of a thing." After leading me up a narrow staircase, she opened a door at its head. This room was brighter; lit by two small windows filled with wavy glass. "What happened to your hair? Did you have a fever?" She looked at me with concern in her eyes. "Oh, yes," I stammered, hoping it was the right answer. "Oh, well, it'll grow back in time; at least you got better," she consoled me. "How long has it been, a year or two?" I just nodded; I hated lying, but we didn't have much choice. Mulder was much better at it than I was. "Maybe we could pin it up." Mrs. Peck misinterpreted my expression. "Thank you," I smiled. "Now, I'll just go and fetch that barrel. I'm sure we'll find something passable, and next time Eben goes to Milwaukee, we'll get him to pick up some calico and muslin. Then we can sew you up some things of your own." "Thank you, Rosaline," I smiled. "I don't know what I'll be able to do to repay you." "Well, I am looking for some help around here. You're tiny, but you look good and strong. If you're willing to work, there's plenty to be had." With that she stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her. While I waited for her, I looked around the room. The furniture was sparse; a bed, two small dressers, a chair and a wash stand. Wooden hooks on the wall held spare dresses and coats. I was trying to see out of the blurry window when I heard Mrs. Peck's voice in the hall. "I'll take it from here, Reverend." Then the door swung open to reveal Rosaline struggling with a barrel. I hurried to help her with it. Soon we had the lid of the barrel off and she began pulling out clothes. I was amazed at the number of garments that had been stuffed inside. Rosaline sorted through it quickly, making three piles; one for me, one for Mulder and the last to go back into the barrel. We found two dresses she thought should fit me and a stack of underthings big enough to sink a ship. "We were lucky to find two of everything," she smiled as she inspected what looked like a slip. "You can tell rich folks donated these, all lace and silk and hardly worn. Some of these shifts are finer than my best dress." She shook her head and laughed. At the bottom of the barrel we found four pair of shoes. The smallest pair was a little too big, but I'd be able to manage. "We can't have you walking around in those," she nodded toward my moccasins. "I'm sure the Reverend would faint dead away if he caught sight of your ankle. Even poor Eben was beside himself, and we've been married these 27 years." "I'm sorry." I hung my head. It had never occurred to me that my appearance would be so shocking. It was a good thing Eben Peck had stumbled across us. We might not have faired so well with someone else. "There, there, dear," she murmured soothingly. "It's hardly your doing. Let me see if the Reverend has moved out of his room, then you can get yourself dressed." "I don't want to put the Reverend out of his bed," I protested. "What would you have me do?" Mrs. Peck stood with her hands on her hips. "Put you on a pallet on the floor with the men?" "I guess not," I muttered. "The Reverend didn't even raise an eyebrow and maybe he'll have a calming influence on those ruffians." Just before we left the room, Rosaline reached into the top drawer of one of the dressers and pulled out a handful of rags and some strips of cotton and put them on the top of the pile I was carrying. "Here's some muslin to use as dress shields and I suppose you'll be needing these rags when it's your time." "Of course," I nodded as I followed her into the hall. I hadn't thought about my period at all. Thinking back, I realized my last one had been a week and a half before Mulder and I left for Madison. That meant I was due in less than a week. I was thankful that Mrs. Peck had thought to give me supplies; I would have had a difficult time asking. In no time, with Rosaline's help, Mulder and my new apparel had been moved to a smaller room down the hall. Then I was left to my own devices to get dressed. From listening as Rosaline unpacked, I thought I'd figured out how everything went. Once I'd slipped out of my deerskin dress, I laid it on the bed. Then I pulled on the stockings, but since I didn't have any garters, Rosaline said the cuffs of my drawers would do to hold them up. After the drawers, I eased into the chemise; the cotton felt cool against my skin. I was eyeing the corset warily when I heard a soft knock at the door. "Who is it?" I called. "Me." Mulder's voice answered. "Come in, Mulder. Maybe you can help me," I sighed. He grinned broadly when he saw me. "Very sexy, Scully." He waggled his eyebrows at me. "Right," I chuckled as I slid my arms into the corset. "You think I'm kidding?" His voice was low and mellow. "There is something decidedly naughty about seeing you in the underwear that is supposed to hide your body from prying eyes." Except for my arms, I was completely swathed in cotton, but Mulder's words made me feel like I was dressed in risque lingerie. "I wanted you to help me into this stuff, not out of it." I didn't try to suppress my grin. Still dressed in his breeches and vest, he walked behind me. His chest was shining with sweat from the work he'd been doing. He smelled like leather and hay and testosterone. I knew he couldn't really smell like a hormone, but whatever his scent was, it smelled good to me. As he picked up the laces of my corset and began to tighten them, I felt his breath on my ear. "I am planning on helping you out of them later." His whisper made me shiver in anticipation and I could only nod in response. When he'd finished tightening my corset he gave me a pat on the ass. "All done," he smiled when I looked over my shoulder at him. Then he moved to the bed and lay down to watch me as I finished dressing. First I slipped on a shift and then I pulled on each of the three petticoats. Finally I struggled into the dress, but I needed Mulder's help to button it. While Mulder changed into the pants and shirt he'd been given, I fought with my shoes. Mrs. Peck had given me a buttonhook to do them up with, but it took me a while to get the hang of it. Mulder was waiting for me when I was done. He grinned at me again as I straightened my skirt. "You even make that look sexy, Scully." I looked down at the navy cotton dress with tiny yellow flowers scattered all over it and then back up at him. "I think you're a little bit biased," I smiled as I headed to the door. My skirt and petticoats swished as I walked. "If you say so," he shrugged, a sly grin still evident on his face. We found Mrs. Peck in the kitchen, cutting vegetables. "How are you at making stew, Mrs. Mulder?" She asked when she saw me. "I've never made so much at one time, but I think I can handle it," I smiled. "And call me Dana, please." "Well then, Dana, you take over here and I'll make up the corn bread." The meat was already browning in a large pot and Rosaline had potatoes and carrots waiting to be peeled and diced; she had already started on the onions. "Here is an apron, you don't want to get your dress soiled." She handed me a large bib apron. "Is Mr. Peck still at the stable?" Mulder asked from the doorway. "He is, and he'd likely appreciate some help, if you're offering," Rosaline nodded. "That I am," Mulder smiled and then disappeared into the hallway. While we worked, Rosaline kept talking. I got the impression it had been a while since she'd had a woman's company. "Did you think about what I said earlier, about helping out around here?" "I did, and if you still want me, I really need the work." I blinked back the stinging tears the onions had brought to my eyes. "I will offer you and your husband bed and board in exchange for your work, Dana," she continued briskly. "The work is hard, but with the two of us, we might get a minute's rest now and again. And if you could help with the chickens and the garden, that would free Eben up to do other chores. The roof on the stable needs to be patched and we'll need more stalls come winter. The cows are all right outside for now, but the nights will be getting cold soon enough." I kept nodding as I worked trying to take in everything she was saying. Breakfast was served at 6 a.m., so we had to be up at 5 to collect the eggs. Dinner was served at 12 o'clock and supper at six. After the supper dishes were washed, my workday was done. In between meals we had other chores to do; Mondays we did laundry, Tuesday we ironed, Wednesday we did the mending, Thursday we scrubbed the floors, and Friday and Saturday were filled by all of the other chores we didn't have time for the rest of the week. Sunday was the only day we didn't have to do anything but cook and wash the dishes. My head was spinning thinking about all of the work. "Since you are working for your bed and board, your husband will be able to save what he makes. When the building boom is over, you'll have yourselves a nice little nest egg." Rosaline smiled brightly at me. "And you can make some cash money of your own, if you like. The men always have mending and darning that needs to be done and I can't keep up with it. I charge extra for it, so if you want to take some of it off of my hands, you could make a little money that way." "I thought you said we did mending on Wednesdays?" I was confused. "That's just the sheets, dear," she clarified. "I charge extra to do their wash too, but I insist on it. The men aren't allowed to stay here unless they bathe once a week and get their clothes washed as often. It frightens me to think what they would be like if there weren't any women-folk around," she shuddered. While the stew was simmering and the corn bread baking, Mrs. Peck tried to pin up my hair, but it wouldn't stay. She settled for tying it back with a ribbon. Then we began to set two long tables in the dining hall. Forty men would be eating here. "We'll fill up large bowls and put out plates of bread. That way they can serve themselves. Of course, there's always someone complaining that they don't get their share," she shrugged. "I don't want to speak out of turn, and while I know nothing about running an establishment like this, would you mind if I made a suggestion?" It was the most I'd said all afternoon. "Of course not, dear. Sometimes it takes a fresh eye to see a better way of doing things," she replied sincerely. So I described the way a soup kitchen was set up, with the men filing past and us filling their plates. "That way no one could take more than their share and we'd save on washing the extra bowls and plates," I explained. "That *is* a good idea, Dana. Why didn't I think of it?" "You were probably too busy to stop and think," I offered. "Probably," she agreed. "We'll start tonight. I'll get Eben to move one of the worktables in here from the kitchen. Tomorrow we won't even set the tables; the men can just pick up their plates and spoons off the serving table." Mr. Peck did as his wife asked and when the men came in looking for their supper, he had to yell the instructions to be heard over the clamber. There was some grumbling at first, but they all complied; they had little choice. Mulder stood off to the side and watched us. My presence was obviously a surprise and a murmur ran through the line of men. "This here is Mrs. Mulder," Eben raised his voice. "And this is her husband." Mulder nodded to the men. "I trust that you will all mind your manners, or you'll have me and Mr. Mulder to answer to." After a murmur of agreement rose up, the line of men fell quiet again. As they filed past, Rosaline filled their plates with stew and I handed them a slice of corn bread. There was enough stew for all those who wanted it to have seconds, and plenty of corn bread as well. The men were finished in half an hour and Mr. Peck said it was the quietest meal he could remember. The four of us ate our food quickly and then Mrs. Peck and I washed the dishes. Before I went upstairs, I asked Mrs. Peck if she would please wake me up in the morning; I doubted I'd get up that early on my own. When I got to our room, Mulder had taken off his shirt and his suspenders were hanging at his sides. He was putting our clothes into the small dresser and our packs were sitting on the bed. As I helped him unpack, sort and put things away, we discussed our situation in low voices. "I wish I knew how he did it." I referred to Dr. Mettler, shaking my head. "We'll never know, Scully." Mulder's voice was quiet but firm. "You don't think we'll ever get back?" My voice wavered. "I don't see how we would. Even if Mettler has figured out how to bring people back, he wouldn't bring us back. We would be the final nail in his coffin." I knew it was true, but I hadn't wanted to think about it. Even if anyone figured out what had happened to us, how would they be able to track us down in all of history? I sat down on the bed with a sigh. "I know it's rough right now, Scully, but I've been thinking. Once more people start settling here, I could get a job as a teacher; it's a respectable salary. If we make enough money now, we might even be able to afford a house of our own. According to Eben, property around here is still pretty cheap. I don't want you to have to slave here for these men..." He sat down on the bed beside me. "You're right, Mulder. We'll be fine, but when I think about how hard I fought to claw my way through the ranks of old boys--not only at the bureau, but at Med school too, and now look where I find myself." I shook my head again. "Maybe you could start championing the women's rights movement now," he grinned. "I don't think we should screw around with history, Mulder. You never know what might happen," I pointed out. "But I could work as a midwife. That's a perfectly acceptable job for a woman in this day and age." "That *is* a good idea, Scully. You would probably be reimbursed in food, but that would save us money. Maybe we'd even be able to afford to get someone in to help with the housework..." "Slow down, Mulder," I laughed. "One step at a time." "Can I help it if I want the best for you?" he chuckled and then pulled me onto his lap. He lowered his lips to my neck and kissed me gently. "Hey!" I laughed. "You smell pretty." "There was some soap on the wash stand," he shrugged. "I probably reek." I wrinkled my nose. "You smell like stew and corn bread." His voice was muffled by my hair. "Great," I laughed ruefully. "That's not a bad thing." I felt his fingers on the buttons of my dress. "Remember I said I wanted to help you out of this stuff?" "Mmm hmm." I snuggled against him. "Well, I changed my mind." "You did?" My head jerked up in surprise. "Yeah," he grinned broadly at me. "I want to just lie here and watch you undress." "I see." I slid off of his lap and turned to look at him. "You want me to strip for you," I lowered my voice. "Please." His voice was barely audible. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." I began to ease my arms out of my sleeves. Mulder's eyes burned into me as I slipped out of the dress. As he watched, I carefully hung it on a wooden hook on the wall. Then I stepped out of each petticoat, folded and laid them on a chair, one by one. I pulled the shift slowly over my head and added it to the pile on the chair. Then I reached around and started to undo my corset. "Leave it on." Mulder's smoky voice startled me. I said nothing; instead I bent over and unbuttoned my shoes. When they were off, I slipped off my drawers and then each of my stockings. Finally I was standing before him in nothing but my corset and chemise. "Come here," he beckoned me softly. As I walked slowly toward him, he sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and held out his hand to me. When I took it, he pulled me closer, forcing me to straddle his legs. I felt his hands close over my ass and he lifted me off of the floor. I was mesmerized by the passion I saw in his eyes. I had dreamt that Mulder might feel this intensely about me, but I never thought I'd actually see it. The evidence of his raw emotion made my heart beat wildly; my labored breathing accentuated by the tight-fitting corset. As his lips closed around mine, my eyes fluttered closed. While our tongues danced, I could feel that we were moving. Opening my eyes revealed that Mulder was now sitting against the headboard. I readjusted so I was kneeling over him, without leaving his mouth. I dropped my hand to his pants, but I couldn't find a fly. Mulder reached down to help me and in no time he had shimmied out of his confines. This time our lips had parted, but Mulder grabbed my head and pulled me into another deep kiss. I didn't remain still; I raised up on my knees so I could lower myself onto him. As I did his hands drifted back to my ass and I moved mine to his shoulders. I was surprised to feel him pull out of our kiss. When he was away longer than he needed for a breath, I opened my eyes to look at him, and found his eyes focussed on where we were joined. I couldn't resist swiveling my hips as I took him in completely; my action making his eyelids flutter. As I eased up slowly, I watched his face as he watched us. When I sank onto him again, his lips parted slightly and his nostrils flared. I kept my pace slow but steady, savoring the way his cock felt as it slid in and out of me. On every stroke my clit grazed against him. Soon I was throbbing and aching for release. He lifted his eyes to meet mine and their dark intensity made me groan. "Do you want to come now?" he breathed. "Yes," I panted. "Good. I want to watch you." His lust-filled voice alone almost sent me flying over the edge. Then I felt his hands move to my waist and he began to move me a little faster. Every time our bodies met, I felt my clit surge. When I couldn't wait any longer, I pressed myself to him and my clit pulsed against him as my orgasm flooded through me. When I dragged my eyes open again, his eyes were still blazing. "So amazing!" he whispered before he captured my lips again. As we kissed, I could feel that he was still hard inside of me, so I began to move again. Mulder pulled out of the kiss, shaking his head. "Get on your knees." His voice was soft and low. I wondered immediately if he had discovered that when it came to sex, I liked to be told what to do. That was why I had always chosen older, confident men. I got to my hands and knees quickly, watching him over my shoulder. He was behind me in an instant. He eased into me slowly, and the sensation of his hard cock inside of me again caused my eyes to roll back in my head. His first full stroke was slow, but when I sighed and moved with him, he began to thrust faster. His hands tightened around my waist and I felt him shudder as he slammed into me. "Scully," he whispered hoarsely just as I felt him pulsing inside of me. We collapsed to the bed, panting. The room had grown dark while we were making love and I knew I wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer. As if reading my mind, Mulder rolled us to one side of the bed and pulled the blankets down. I crawled in still wearing my corset, but I didn't care, I was exhausted. Mulder spooned up to me and pulled the covers over us. "Love you." His warm breath tickled my ear. "I love you, Mulder," I told him softly and as sleep overtook me, I knew he was right. As long as we had each other, we would be able to handle whatever came our way. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Title: Old Growth Forest, WIP, chapter 8 Rating: This chapter is PG. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was still dark the following morning when I heard Rosaline's soft knock. After I extricated myself from Mulder's arms, I slid out of bed, found my clothes and began to pull them on quickly. I struggled with my shoes in the dark, but I managed to get them done up. Remembering the I brush I'd seen on the wash stand the night before, I felt around for it and quickly ran it through my hair. It was then that I realized that I'd lost my hair ribbon. "Should I get up now, too?" Mulder wondered sleepily as I searched the bed. I found my ribbon tucked between the pillows. "Breakfast is in an hour, and I think if you miss it, you're out of luck," I warned him gently. "Bed's not comfortable without you, anyway," he sighed. "I'd love to crawl back in with you, Mulder, but I have work to do." I leaned over to give him a quick kiss. "Mmm, see you downstairs, Scully." Rosaline was waiting for me in the kitchen when I dashed past on my way to the outhouse. Once I was back, I washed my hands at the pump in the sink. "I try to thank Eben every day for putting this pump inside for me. It certainly is a blessing and such a time saver," she smiled as I slipped into my apron. By the flickering light of a lantern, Rosaline pulled my hair back with the ribbon. "Remind me to give you a lantern tonight, so you can do your own hair in the morning, but mind you don't burn it too long. It's not that the colza oil is dear, but we have a hard time getting it out here." When she'd finished with my hair, she took some water she'd been warming on the stove and poured it into a bucket. Then she handed a couple of shallow pans and a wooden spoon to me. Before we left she picked up a basket--it made me wonder how she'd ever managed to cope on her own. The barn, which was also made of logs, was a long building with low ceilings. Judging from what I could see protruding from cracks above me, I assumed that hay was stored up there in a loft. Lantern light was shining halfway down the center hall of the barn that Rosaline was leading me down. I followed her lead and picked up my skirts so that they didn't trail on the dirty floor. "Mornin', Mrs. Mulder," Mr. Peck called from one of the stalls as we passed. He was sitting on a short three-legged stool, his cheek pressed up against the flank of fawn-colored cow. "Good morning, Mr. Peck," I smiled. As we passed I heard the hiss of a stream of milk as it hit the side of the pail. When we got closer the end of the barn, I could see a wooden frame covered in chicken wire protruding toward us. Rosaline lifted the lid of a box that sat next to the fence and scooped some of the contents into the pans I was carrying. "Set those down, Dana, so I can add the water," she instructed. "And give a stir, will you?" As I stirred up the mixture she began to explain what she was doing. "I like to pamper the hens with warm mash. I find they lay better that way--I give them warm water to drink too. I think it's worth the trouble to keep my girls happy." The chickens must have known they were about to be fed because they'd left their roosts and were milling around a door in the barn wall. I took the pans of mash while Rosaline carried the basket and water bucket. None of the hens tried to get out of the wire-frame door when she opened it; they were too busy trying to get out of the other door. In fact, we had to wade through them to get to it. On the other side of the wooden door was a large enclosure built up against the side of the barn. It ran the width of the building, about 30 feet, and was the same distance deep. The frame of the pen was covered with chicken wire and half of it was topped with split logs, to provide some shade I assumed. The rest was finished like the walls of the enclosure. Rosaline asked me to put the pans down on opposite sides of the yard while she filled the small trough. Once the hens were busy with their food, we went back inside to collect the eggs. I collected from one side of the henhouse, putting the eggs in my apron, while Rosaline took care of the other side. After I'd added my eggs to the basket, we headed back to the house. On the way I noticed that Mulder had joined Eben in a whitewashed room at other end of the barn. When I mentioned that it looked like we didn't have enough eggs to feed all of the men, Rosaline explained that they served eggs a couple of times a week. The rest, she told me, were used for cooking. Wednesdays and Saturdays the men had eggs for breakfast and, if the hens were laying particularly well, they got eggs a third day. Other than that, they got porridge. "Mind you, we'll have eggs every day; there has to be some benefit to running the place." She winked at me. Once we were back in the kitchen, Rosaline set the eggs down and then showed me the proportions to use for the porridge. After she disappeared with the eggs for a minute, to put them somewhere cool I assumed, she came back and began to cut up several loaves of bread. Then she lifted two of the lids off of the stove, revealing the fire below. Over each opening she set a wire rack onto which she placed six slices of bread. "Dana, will you watch the toast and butter it when it's done? I'm going to put the cream, sugar and preserves on the tables." While she spoke, she put four plates in a warming oven above me. "If I put the butter on the table, these men would spread it on like molasses." It was no trouble to watch the porridge and take care of the toast. As I was putting it in the warming oven, I felt someone brush up against me. "What's for breakfast?" Mulder whispered in my ear. "The men are having oatmeal and toast, but I think we're having eggs." I smiled at him over my shoulder. "That toast smells really good." His breath tickled my ear. "Don't let him sweet talk you into any of that food," Rosaline laughed behind us. "As soon as the men are fed, Dana and I will cook breakfast for the four of us." "Why don't I dish out the porridge? That way you and Dana can cook?" Mulder offered. "You'd be willing to do that?" Rosaline's eyes widened in surprise. "If it'll get me fed faster, I'd be more than willing," he assured her with a smile. "Well I can cook the breakfast on my own, but Dana will need to make another two loaves of toast. So if you serve, Mr. Mulder, that should really speed things along. I like to see a man who's not afraid to do women's work when it will help out--even if he's just looking out for his own stomach." When I'd finished toasting another loaf, I took it out on three plates and set them on the tables. Mulder was dishing out a second helping to a burly man, but he was watching the men like a hawk. As I excused myself to reach between them, they gave me a wide berth. I wondered if they would have reacted the same way if Mulder hadn't been watching. It wasn't long before the dining hall had emptied out and the four of us were sitting at the small table in the kitchen. Our meal consisted of eggs, toast, and back bacon. Apparently another benefit of working with Eben and Rosaline was coffee. Rosaline explained that it was too expensive to give to the men, so she never started to brew it until after they'd left. For some reason though, the coffee was upsetting my stomach. When I declined her offer, Rosaline offered me a glass of milk instead, which I gratefully accepted. I was surprised when I took my first sip that it tasted like someone had poured perfume into it. I decided that it must be because it was whole, unpasturized milk and vowed to stick to water after that. Mulder and Mr. Peck were finishing off the last of the toast with a second cup of coffee when the innkeeper cleared his throat. "I know I mentioned that there was plenty of work in town, what with the capital buildings and the hotel, Mr. Mulder, but I was wondering if I might be able to interest you in working here with me?" "What kind of work would I be doing?" Mulder set down his coffee cup. "Mostly helping me, the way Mrs. Mulder is helping Rosaline. I have the cows to milk in the morning, then the work in the dairy. After breakfast I take the cows to pasture and then muck out the stalls. Then I don't have anything set until I bring the cows back, but I have all kinds of odds and ends to do in between. I was hoping you could help me out with those chores. Then we should have enough time to fix up the barn *and* get a store building up on the other property I own. The way people are flooding in here, I should be able sell it or rent it out, easily." "I've never worked in a dairy, but I'm sure I could learn," Mulder replied quickly. "You seem like you're willing to work, and the way I see it, that is what matters most," Eben continued earnestly. "Now, I'm going to offer you sixty cents a day, and that includes Sunday--the cows still have to be milked on the Lord's day. You'll find that laborers around here make sixty-five cents a day, but they don't get paid for Sunday." "I'd get thirty cents more a week," Mulder noted. "Right," Eben smiled. "And on Sunday we only do the necessities-- milk the cows and clean out the stalls, but I'll still give you the full day's pay." "That sounds more than fair to me, Mr. Peck." Mulder extended his hand. "Please call me Eben." He shook Mulder's hand vigorously. "I know it sounds odd, Eben, but I'd like you and Mrs. Peck to call me Mulder. That's what Dana calls me--I never did like my given name." "Eben said Fox was your mother's maiden name." Rosaline looked puzzled. "It was," Mulder affirmed. "But that didn't stop me from being teased all the time." "That's a shame," Rosaline shook her head. The rest of day passed quickly; I only saw Mulder at meal times. In between cooking and doing the dishes, Rosaline and I worked in the garden. Since she'd been so busy before she hired me, it had become somewhat overgrown, but with three hours of work we managed to get it cleaned up. "We could use a good soaking." Rosaline stood looking at the garden with her hands on her hips. "It's been well over a week since we've had any rain and the last thing I have time for is hauling water." "The soil is a little dry." I kicked at it with the toe of my shoe. "Well, worrying won't make it rain any faster, will it? Since we have some extra time, why don't we make some pies? It will certainly surprise the men, it not being Sunday," she smiled. "I still have plenty of dried apples left and it's almost time for the new crop." While the apples soaked, we made the pastry and then Rosaline stoked up the fire. Soon the mouth-watering scent of apple and cinnamon began to fill the kitchen. "Would you like to make up the corn bread today, Dana, and I'll make the stew?" Rosaline asked while we were cleaning up from making the pies. "Maybe I could make bannock instead. It goes well with stew." I had no idea how to make corn bread and I didn't want Rosaline to think I was completely hopeless. "Bannock?" She looked at me questioningly. "It's a kind of flat bread made with flour, fat, salt and baking powder," I explained. "Baking powder?" she repeated. "Do you mean soda?" "It's baking soda and cream of tartar." I had to think quickly. "If that's what you'd like to do," she shrugged. "If the men don't like it, they won't be afraid to say." I was only guessing at the ingredients based on a soda bread recipe that my mother used to make for my father. Rosaline watched me as I mixed up the dough, obviously curious, but she said nothing. After I fried up the first one, I tested it to make sure I was okay. It wasn't exactly the same as Wanik's, but it was okay. I offered a piece to Rosaline; she seemed a bit skeptical, but smiled her approval as she was chewing. "That's quite nice. Where did you learn to make that?" "When Mulder and I were staying with the Indians one of the women taught me how to make it." Rosaline's eyebrows flew up. "Well keep that to yourself, Dana. Most of the men here won't touch if they know it's Indian food." "I don't see what the difference is, but if anyone asks, I'll say it's my mother's recipe," I sighed as I began to fry another piece. "I know the Indians were good to you and your husband, but you have to remember the history in these parts. It would be like rubbing salt into a wound." "I guess you're right." I gave in--mostly because I didn't know specifically what she was referring to. I did know, however, that if there was any violence on the part of the Indians, it was with just cause. However, I kept my thoughts to myself. The only noise in the kitchen was the sound of Rosaline's knife on the wooden table and the sizzling of the grease in my frying pan. Working like this in the kitchen reminded me of times spent in my mother's kitchen when I used to help her prepare the family meals. Suddenly I felt very alone. Sorrow washed over me like a wave, starting with nausea that gripped my stomach, followed by a sob that caught in my throat, and ended with the tears that welled up in my eyes. I couldn't blink them back fast enough to stop them from overflowing onto my cheeks. I kept cooking the bannock blindly, hoping that I could recover my composure before Rosaline noticed. But I couldn't stop myself from sniffing, making her look over at me immediately. "What is it, dear? Is it what I said about the Indians?" She dropped her knife, hurried to my side and laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "No," I sniffed again. "I just got homesick all of a sudden. I miss my mother, and my brothers and their children." My voiced cracked. "I can't get used to the fact that I'll never see them again." "Never is a long time, Dana. Maybe they'll decide to head west eventually too." She tried to soothe me. "I don't think so," I shook my head. "It's hard to up and leave your friends and family. I know, I did it when I was much younger than you to follow Eben. You have your husband, and he loves you very much--anyone can see that," she reminded me. "I know, Rosaline, thank you." I tried to convince myself that my family was just far away. It was easier than trying to deal with the fact that they didn't exist yet. Rosaline began to chat again, telling me about the farm that she and Eben had owned outside of Blue Mounds. I knew she was trying to keep my mind off of my troubles, and that fact alone was enough to make me feel better. Supper passed without incident, except that the men enjoyed the bannock and were thrilled to see the pie. Rosaline made sure there was enough of both left to go with our supper too. Eben liked the bannock so much, Rosaline said I'd have to teach her how to make it. Mulder liked the pie so much, I'm sure he would have eaten the whole pie by himself if he'd been given the chance. That night as I lay in Mulder's arms and he told me about his day, even though my heart ached, I hadn't felt this safe or loved since I was a little girl. My only real concern was that my mother might think I'd been killed or injured. I closed my eyes and prayed that she knew in her heart I was safe. The following day was Saturday and it passed as quickly as Friday had. After breakfast, Rosaline and I cleaned out the chicken coop and after lunch we made bread. As we were kneading the dough I thought about how busy we'd been. I couldn't imagine how Rosaline had managed on her own--she must have worked from before dawn until long past sunset. That evening, when the supper dishes were done, Mulder said he had a surprise for me in our room. I followed him up the stairs carrying the lantern and matches Rosaline had given me. I had no idea what his surprise might be and I laughed when he produced two newspapers. "Don't you want to catch up, Scully?" he grinned. Mulder let me choose between the Chicago Democrat and the Milwaukee Sentinel. "Madison doesn't have a paper yet," Mulder informed me. "But according to Eben there's talk that one will be starting up soon." Since the Chicago paper was larger, I decided to let him have that one first, and I took the Sentinel. "This paper is dated Monday August 6, 1838, Mulder. Do you know what today's date is?" "I asked Eben that, claiming to have lost track. He said it's August 18th," Mulder smiled as he flopped down on the bed. After I took off my shoes, I joined him. We'd intended to read our papers and then switch when we were done, but as we came across interesting articles we ended up reading them to each other. It was like a history lesson I recalled from high school; taking historical events and rewriting them like newspaper articles. Martin Van Buren was president and his detractors said that he was responsible for 'The Panic of '37', but both newspapers agreed it was the policies of the Jackson administration that had created current fiscal problems. On the other hand, Van Buren didn't do anything to help his own cause by refusing to help the poverty-stricken. There was no public assistance of any kind, and it shocked me that he could remain so callous when people were starving. Both papers also featured articles on the plight of the Cherokee Indians in Georgia. I was amazed that some of the public seemed to be siding with them. In fact, that had been the reason why, 20 years earlier, Davy Crockett had left politics. Yet the government was insisting they be evicted from their land. In 1838 public opinion apparently mattered little to the elected officials. At least the Clinton administration tried to appear to care what the public thought. "When did the 'Trail of Tears' begin, Mulder? Do you know?" "I can't remember when the actual exodus begins and I don't think that phrase has been coined yet," he told me. "It turns my stomach, knowing in advance what is going to happen to these people. These papers are predicting disastrous outcomes--and their estimates are woefully low." "What can these bureaucrats possibly be thinking? They have documented evidence that far shorter forced migrations have resulted in huge losses of life. How can they turn a blind eye?" I'd been looking forward to reading the newspapers, but now I was depressed. "That is something that has me confused." Mulder pursed his lips. "That the government is turning a blind eye?" "No, similar forced migrations," he clarified. "I thought the Fox Indians had been evicted from their land as well, but I assumed that I was misremembering." "And?" I prompted. "This paper cites the results of the migration of the Sauk and the Fox Indians from the Iowa territory to Kansas. There aren't supposed to be any Fox Indians left here, not for a long time now. The article mentions how they left this area over 100 years ago, after the French and Indian Wars." "Maybe we met a different tribe. Maybe we misunderstood," I suggested. "I don't think so, Scully. It would explain why Namid was not pleased to see us." "You think they could be in trouble if they were discovered?" My stomach churned in realization. "I think so," he nodded. "I haven't said anything specifically about where we were or what tribe it was." I thought back to my conversations. "Me either, and I think we should avoid that topic from now on." He folded up the paper he'd been reading. I nodded my agreement. I couldn't bear thinking about being responsible for anything happening to Namid's band. For the rest of the evening, all I could think about was the horrible tragedy that was about to befall the Cherokee; knowing the future was not all it was cracked up to be. I vowed to keep my mouth shut in order to prevent a similar occurrence from happening to people that I knew and respected. I wasn't sure how much the government cared about 75 people, but I didn't want to find out either. The next morning Reverend Foster held a service in the dining hall. Mulder, as with most of the men, wasn't thrilled about being there, but he put on a brave face. He knew it was expected. After lunch I was still feeling depressed about what I'd read in the paper the previous night. I hadn't realized how quiet I'd been until Rosaline spoke up. "You're mighty quiet, Dana. Are you still homesick?" Since I couldn't explain the real reason for my mood, I told a half-truth. "A bit." "I think I'm just going to make baked beans for supper," she changed the subject. "I can handle that on my own, if you'll look after the dishes. You should go and get some fresh air. I'm sure that'll spruce you up." "Are you sure, Rosaline? I don't want to leave you all of the work." "You'll have to do the dishes by yourself, that's all." "That's fine, that's great. Thank you, Rosaline," I gushed. "Go on then," she waved me out of the kitchen with a smile. "And take my bonnet," she called after me. "Or those freckles will never fade." Mulder and I spent a wonderful afternoon exploring Madison. It sent shivers down my spine to realize that during our investigation, we had walked these same streets--162 years in the future. Even though I had finally accepted the fact that we were in the past, I was still having a hard time getting my head around it. Rosaline was right; the fresh air and sunshine did improve my mood. Walking along the shore of Lake Mendota hand in hand with Mulder had its merits too. By the time we returned for supper, I was feeling more like myself. I'd decided that if protecting my friends was all I could do, it would have to be enough. As happened in my future life--my real life--my life in the 20th century; whatever I should call it--terrible tragedies always upset me, but I'd learned not to let them run my life. I could never get them out of my mind completely, though. The next week flew by and we received a couple of the days of rain that Rosaline had been hoping for. When I got faster at my work, I ended up having some spare time and got to go with Mulder when he took the cows to pasture early in the week. It made for a nice change of pace. He and Eben had finished fixing the roof on the barn and had almost finished the extra stall as well. Eben was anxious to get to work on his store building--new people were arriving in town every day. We had no beds left, but more and more people were taking their meals with us. By Friday there were two entire sittings for every meal; all of my spare time had vanished. It was a relief when Sunday finally came again. Rosaline and I made the same arrangement as we had the previous week. This time, Mulder and I took a picnic with us. We didn't have to go far to be by ourselves and we got to spend a romantic afternoon together. When we were in our room, after he'd helped me with the dishes, Mulder decided to clean up a bit and pulled one of the rags Rosaline had given me out of my drawer. It was then I realized that I still hadn't started my period, but I figured my body was in shock from the time travel. It was still nagging at me the following morning as I went to feed the chickens and collect the eggs. I was usually very regular, but I'd never had an experience like this before. There was nothing I could do about it here, anyway. I was still wondering what might have happened to mess up my cycle as I headed back to the kitchen. I stopped dead in my tracks though, when I saw a figure standing in the shadows at the other end of the hall watching me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Old Growth Forest, WIP, chapter 9 Rating: This chapter is NC-17. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Neither of us moved. My heart was pounding wildly in my chest as my eyes strained to see his face. "I didn't mean to scare you." His voice was quiet. "Who--who are you?" I stammered. "My name is Jack." He took a small step toward me. The way he was treating me seemed familiar; similar to my hostage negotiation training. "What are you doing here?" I tried to keep my voice steady. "I'm not allowed inside," he explained. "Yes, we *are* full, but I didn't know Eben was letting people sleep out here." As I was speaking, I heard the door of the boarding house open and then close again. Both Jack and I turned our heads toward the open barn door. "So I told him he could just do that." Eben's voice held some mirth. "And you walked away?" Mulder sounded surprised. "The way I see it, you got to strike while the iron's hot. If a man waits too long, everybody and his brother will..." Eben stopped speaking when he stepped into the barn. His lantern was bright enough to cast some light into the aisle. Jack was no longer in the shadows. I was astounded to see the familiar high cheekbones and sparkling dark eyes of the people we'd first encountered here. His clothes were similar to what Eben and Mulder were wearing. Now I could see he had moccasins on his feet and his long black hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. "Jack!" Eben sounded pleased to see him. "I been expecting you, but you're a bit early aren't you? Payday ain't for another couple of days yet." Mulder and I had learned the men were paid monthly. Rosaline insisted they pay for each month's room and board in advance. If she didn't, some of them wouldn't have enough money left to meet their obligations at the end of the month. "Drinking and gambling when they have mouths to feed at home." I remembered her shaking her head in disgust when she explained the arrangement to me. "I was hoping to buy some supplies too. I heard there's a merchant going to be opening soon." Jack's voice drew me back into the conversation. "Very soon, if he agrees to my price," Eben chuckled. "Mulder and me might have to build around him, but I think he'd do best to get his business going. I heard there's more than one on his way out here to try his hand at a general store." "Excuse me," I interrupted, "but I should get these eggs inside. Rosaline will be wondering what's keeping me." "Forgive my manners, Mrs. Mulder," Eben apologized, "this here's Jack. He always shows up around payday and fleeces the boys." "Nobody makes them gamble, Mr. Peck," Jack defended himself, "and you know I don't cheat. If they'd learn not to mix liquor with their cards, maybe they'd do better." "Nice to meet you, Jack," I nodded and began to head back to the house. "The pleasure's all mine, Mrs. Mulder." He smiled at me. "Do me a favor and tell Rosaline that Jack's here," Eben requested as I walked past. "I will," I agreed. Before I'd made it inside again I heard them continue their conversation. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but from the way they were laughing, it was obviously very funny. As soon as I set foot in the kitchen Rosaline noticed something was wrong, "What's the matter, Dana? You're trembling." I told her how Jack had startled me in the barn. What I didn't understand was why I was still shaking. In all my years working on the x-files, I'd been in far riskier situations that hadn't affected me this much. While we were cooking breakfast, Rosaline told me she would set aside some food for Jack and we could take it to him in the barn. "Why can't he eat in here?" I knew the answer, but I couldn't leave it alone. Rosaline sighed, "Dana, we've been through this before. You know the men would object." "But why can't he eat in the kitchen with us?" I tried to sound innocent as I placed some toast into the warming oven. Rosaline started to say something, but changed her mind. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her eyes flick over at me. She pursed her lips as she picked up her tray of condiments. I didn't say anything else--it was her decision to make. It wasn't until Mulder was serving the porridge that she finally answered me. "I suppose he can eat with us, but he'll have to pay more." "Of course," I tried to keep my face solemn; I didn't want it to look like I was gloating. Breakfast turned out to be very entertaining. Jack was quite a character and full of stories. As we ate, he regaled us with a story of how'd he'd spent an entire night being chased through the woods by a wolf when he was 15. "I'd wandered away from the camp, following the call of a hoot owl when I heard a wolf howl behind me. I took off running, but couldn't get away. I could hear the wolf crashing through the undergrowth right behind me. I thought about climbing a tree, but I knew the wolf would catch me if I slowed down at all. Finally, when I could run no more, I collapsed into a heap, waiting for the wolf to bite. When nothing happened, I lifted my head to see what was going on. Much to my surprise, I found my father standing over me, shaking his head. He said to me: 'Son, if you are going to be in the forest after dark, you must be prepared to deal with what's out there. You must also remember that you will never win any battles unless you know your enemy; learn to face your foes.' "From then on I was never without my knife. Now I always face my enemies head-on." While the men were having a second cup of coffee, Eben asked Jack if he'd like to help with the store building. Saying he'd never turn down a paying job, Jack accepted readily. Later that morning as I was churning the butter and Rosaline was heating up the wash water, she turned to me with a slight smile on her face. "I guess Jack's not too bad." "He's a good story-teller," I nodded, figuring an I-told-you-so wouldn't be the best route. "He certainly is," she laughed, "I was on the edge of my seat." The rest of the day sped by. When Mulder and I retired to our room, I was ready to curl up in his arms and go to sleep even though it was fairly early. He, however, was almost bursting to tell me something. "Jack knows us." Mulder was on the bed wearing nothing but a crooked little grin. "What?" I was still struggling out of my mounds of underwear. "He knew your first name was Dana," he was watching me undress, lying on his side, propped up on his elbow. "Eben must have told him," I pulled my shift over my head. "Nope, and he pronounced your name Day-na," Mulder grinned. "He did?" My eyes widened as I undid my corset. "How did he know?" Finally naked, I crawled into bed with him. Even though I was tired my body responded immediately when his arms slipped around me. "He just came from the village," Mulder whispered before he pressed his lips against mine. "No," I gasped through our kiss. "Mmm hmm," he chuckled. "And they mentioned us?" I placed soft kisses along his jaw. "And Jack wasn't sure if the stories were true until he saw you. I was surprised when he wanted to know my first name," he continued in between sucking lightly on my neck. "How is everyone? Did he say?" I'd forgotten my plan to go right to sleep. My hands were skimming over his back toward his ass. The work Mulder was doing seemed to be having a beneficial effect on his already lean frame; his muscles were becoming even more defined. "That feels good," he breathed as I let my hand wander over his thigh. "Everyone is fine, and I think I've solved the Wanik mystery." His hand had found its way to my breast. My hips jerked forward when he tugged on my nipple. "Really! Jack and Wanik?" My hand left his thigh and closed around his erection. He drew a long slow breath as I began to stroke him gently. "God, Scully." His voice had grown hoarse. "Jack says Wanik won't agree to marry him unless he moves to the village permanently." Abandoning my breast, Mulder's hand drifted down over my belly. Wantonly, I adjusted my legs to give him free access. My hips jumped again at his touch. "Why doesn't he? Doesn't he love her?" I wondered breathily as my thumb grazed over the head of his cock. I discovered a bead of his natural lubricant--it served to make him even silkier. "From the far away look in his eyes when he talked about her, I'm sure he loves her, Scully," his words were punctuated by sharp intakes of breath as I continued to caress him. "Then why doesn't he--" I stopped in mid-question when Mulder eased two fingers into me and gasped when his thumb brushed against my clit. "He makes his living by trading between the Indians and white people," Mulder's breathing was so labored he could barely get more than two words out at a time, "he'd have to give that up." His fingers were on the verge of sending me over the edge. When he withdrew his hand, I whimpered in protest. "I want to be inside of you when you come--it feels so incredible," he explained as he gently rolled me to my back. "Then you'd better hurry," I warned him breathlessly. His mouth covered mine and my hands went to his hair in a vain attempt to pull him closer. When I felt his cock begin to slide into me, I moaned into his mouth. Making a growling noise at the back of his throat, he plunged his tongue deeper into my mouth. Once he was completely inside of me, he no longer took things slowly. Our foreplay had brought us so close, we shared shuddering orgasms after only a few of his powerful thrusts. The narcotic effect of my climax, in combination with the fact that I was already very tired, made me forget the conversation we'd been having. Instead, I drifted blissfully to sleep in Mulder's arms. Over the course of the following week Mulder learned more and more about Jack and his connection to the Fox Indians, as well as the answers to some questions that had been plaguing us. Every night, as we lay in each other's arms, Mulder would tell me what he'd learned that day. Jack was a Sauk Indian. His people now lived in Indian Territory, which I thought was modern-day Kansas. He'd come back to Wisconsin Territory because of all of the stories his parents had told him about how beautiful it was. He'd heard rumors from other bands that there was a group of renegade Fox Indians living north of what had become Madison. Long before the Fox Indians were evicted from their land in Iowa, this band left in the dead of night and, travelling only in the dark, made their way back to Wisconsin Territory. The Indian agents never noticed the decline in numbers, or if they did it was never made public. It was Namid's grandfather that led the group back to Wisconsin and they had lived here undetected for three generations. The construction of Madison, however, was closer to their village than they were comfortable with. So they were planning to move northwest in the spring to escape discovery. Most of the European accoutrements we'd seen at the village were a result of their dealings with Jack. He would trade their furs for things like cookware, utensils, flour and beads. This arrangement helped the Fox Indians remain hidden. They weren't the only band who traded through him. Apparently most bands found it easier to deal with him than trying to communicate in a language few could even speak. With Jack's help, Mulder and Eben finished the store building quickly. Mr. Whitaker, the merchant who had been interested in it, agreed to Eben's price. Then Jack and Mulder made some extra money by helping Mr. Whitaker move in his stock. Jack helped all day, and Mulder helped whenever he had time away from his chores. It took two days to get it all unpacked. One of the cartons hadn't survived the journey in the wagon, and some of its contents had become damaged and weren't fit for sale, so Mr. Whitaker had given them to Mulder. It turned out to be two fancy boxes of perfumed soap. He gave them both to me, but I decided to share them with Rosaline. After supper the very night that Mulder presented me with the soap, I decided to have a bath. Rosaline was bemused by the fact that Mulder and I bathed every other day. She and Eben only bathed on Saturday nights, but she'd said since she didn't have to carry the bath water around, it made no difference to her. I didn't tell her that I would have preferred to bathe every day. It was a tremendous amount of work to heat up all of that water, lug it upstairs, and then carry the tub back downstairs again to dump out the water. So Mulder and I had decided every other day would have to do. The following morning was Saturday and I felt miserable. I didn't know if I was going to be able to face the barn. "Aren't you feeling well, Dana?" Rosaline was concerned as soon as she saw me. "My stomach is just a little upset. I'm sure it's nothing," I assured her. "I'll make you a piece of toast--you sit," she removed one of the stove lids. "I'll be fine," I waved her off. "Sit," she repeated in a firm voice. Meekly, I sat down and waited for her to make the toast. The last thing I wanted with the way my stomach was feeling, was food. But I didn't think Rosaline would give me a choice. I was glad I hadn't voiced my doubts, because the dry toast did make me feel better and I wasn't in the mood for crow. My stomach was fine for the rest of the day, so I assumed I'd just been over-hungry. Sunday morning, however, I was feeling just as ill. After I ate another piece of dry toast, I was fine again. When I returned from collecting the eggs and we were making breakfast, Rosaline turned to me with a knowing smile on her face, "How far gone are you?" "I beg your pardon," I could feel my brow furrowing. "How far along are you?" She rephrased her question. When I realized what she was asking, I almost told her it wasn't possible until I remembered that I still hadn't started my period. I was two and half weeks late. My hand flew to my mouth. "I couldn't be," my voice was shaking. "Did you think you were barren?" Her voice was gentle. She would have assumed that Mulder and I had been married for years and I let her think that. I could only nod; I was afraid I would burst into tears if I spoke. "God has decided to bless you," she smiled. I nodded again, smiling this time; my eyes brimming with tears. "Does your husband suspect?" She put a hand on my shoulder. I shook my head. "Will he be happy about it?" "Oh, yes," I assured her quickly, my voice clouded with emotion, "Happier than you can possibly imagine." When Mulder and Eben came back from the barn, Rosaline dragged her bewildered husband into the dining hall, claiming she needed his help. Mulder watched them go with a puzzled look on his face. "What was that all about?" "She wanted to give us a minute," I explained. He raised his eyebrows and waited for me to continue. "Well, I still don't quite believe it myself, but with all of the symptoms I've been having..." I couldn't actually say the words. I watched as Mulder's expression changed from confusion to one of understanding. "You're pregnant!" His smile lit up his face. "I'm not positive--my period is late and my stomach has been upset, but it could be something else, Mulder. We shouldn't get our hopes up. I don't see how it could possibly be true, but..." As I was speaking, Mulder closed the distance between us, gathered me into his arms and kissed me softly. "I guess we'll know for sure in a couple of months. As for how, I can think of some reasons why you might be suddenly fertile, Scully," he whispered. "Aside from Omiga's potion?" I grinned. "Yeah, aside from that," his voice was gentle, but serious. The joy drained out of me when I saw the look in his eyes. "I know you haven't thought about this, but when you had that chip put back into your neck, did it occur to you that it might heal more than your cancer?" The idea sent a chill through me. He was right; it hadn't occurred to me and it was certainly a possibility, although I'd never been sure if it was the chip that cured my cancer. I also wasn't sure it hadn't, hence the reason it was still in my neck. "There's another possibility I can think of." His voice had grown cold, making me fear what he was about to say. "What is it, Mulder? It's something you don't like the thought of obviously." "Your missing time--when you went with Spender." His words hit me like a punch in the stomach. The thought of that man doing anything to me while I was unconscious made me nauseous. Then I recalled the strange conversation we'd had while we were driving. "He knew I was in love with you," I'd never mentioned that aspect of the conversation to Mulder. "He said that?" Mulder's face was a mixture of surprise and confusion. "Why would he care about that?" "Why would he care about my fertility?" I countered. "I don't want to think about that," his voice was hard. "I can't begin to fathom that man's motives," Mulder hugged me even harder, "but his motives are hardly relevant anymore." The days passed into weeks; August had faded into September, and fall would officially arrive in a week. The days were still quite warm, although it did cool down at night. More and more people streamed into Madison. Jack stayed on to help Mulder and Eben expand the boarding house. They couldn't keep up with the demand, even though the Madison Hotel was now open too. A young Polish couple named Harkleroad had moved into one of the new single rooms. The woman, Anna, began to work with Rosaline and me while her husband was busy establishing his butcher shop. Even with Anna's help we were having a hard time keeping up with all of the work. Over time it had become very apparent that I was indeed pregnant. To Mulder's delight my breasts had gotten bigger. They were a little tender, but when he gently squeezed and caressed them, the tenderness would disappear. My morning queasiness continued, but a piece of dry toast right away seemed to keep it at bay. Any time that I had to think was spent on what life was going to be like for our little family. I'd been very happy living with Namid's tribe. Here, we were so busy, I had little time to think about whether I was happy or not. It wasn't that life was easy in the village, but it was certainly easier. I definitely felt a stronger connection to those people than I felt here. I couldn't help remembering Hillary Clinton's book called 'It Takes a Village to Raise a Child'. When I first heard that, I'd thought it was sort of naive. After seeing the way everyone helped with the children, I couldn't help thinking Namid's village would be a better environment for Mulder and me to raise our child. Mulder was shocked, to say the least, when I finally told him what I was thinking. "You want to go back?" He repeated my words. "I do. I was happier there, weren't you?" "Yes, but what about the baby?" "What about it? There are far more experienced mid-wives there, and I do know I thing or two myself. Shall I mention Omiga?" I'd anticipated his concerns, so I was prepared. "Okay, I'll give you that, but I don't like the idea of having you live in a wigwam all winter when you're pregnant," he voiced his concerns. "The women in the village seem to manage just fine and..." I held up my hand to stop him from interrupting. "If you're that worried, couldn't you and Jack build a small log house for us. You know how now, right?" "How long have you been thinking about this?" "A while," I shrugged. "So it seems," he chuckled. "What about Rosaline and Eben?" "I've thought about that too. I'm sure they won't understand, but we wouldn't be leaving them short. Eben is finished the building he wanted to do this year, and Rosaline will have Anna's help." "There *are* new people showing up every day, so there will be no shortage of people looking for work. I heard that there are almost 600 people living here now." "So we can go?" I tried to reign in my glee. "I'll talk to Jack. If he agrees to come with us to help build a house, we can go. Okay?" he consented. "Okay," I nodded. Mulder later told me Jack had agreed immediately. He'd been planning to leave soon to take winter supplies to the village anyway. Over the next week he and Mulder bought everything we thought we would need; tools to build the house, blankets, flour, cornmeal, salt pork, sugar, dried fruit, baking soda, cream of tartar, dried beans, candles, and matches. Although it would be heavy to haul, Mulder and I agreed that we would need a washtub. I also reminded him to get some fabric for baby clothes and diapers, and needles and thread. We got lye soap for the clothes and plain soap for us--the flowery soap was nice, but it would be impractical in our new home. We still had the cooking pots and utensils from our trip down, but Mulder bought some plates and cutlery, and utensils like scissors and a whisk. I also asked him to buy some paper and pen and ink; I had decided to start keeping a diary. Jack stashed everything in the hayloft. If Eben happened to stumble across it, he would say that it was the supplies he was planning to trade with the Indians. Since we'd decided to leave very early the next Monday morning, Jack and Mulder spent all of their spare time on Sunday out in the woods building a travois--Jack already had one of his own. After supper Jack went back and retrieved them, and after we'd gone upstairs Jack would pack them. We were all going to be carrying backpacks, too; I was going to carry the fabric and the blankets, while Mulder and Jack were going to split the food for the trip and the cooking equipment between them. It had taken me two days of arguing to talk Mulder into agreeing to let me carry anything. I'd managed to convince him that pregnant did not mean sick and carrying a backpack would probably be easier than the work I'd been doing with Rosaline. Before we went to sleep, I decided to write Rosaline a letter. Strangely enough, I wasn't even sure if she could read, but I couldn't leave without saying anything. I thanked her for everything she'd done for Mulder and me, but told her that we'd decided to return to Chicago. I explained that since we'd managed to conceive a child, I wanted to be able to share it with my family and I hadn't told her because I didn't want her to try to talk me out of it. In the stillness of the very early morning, Jack sneaked up to our room and woke us. He left us to let us dress and we changed back into our deerskin clothes. I made the bed and left the note for Rosaline on the washstand. After creeping down the stairs, we quietly left the boarding house. Jack was waiting for us outside with the packs and travois. We shrugged into the packs quickly and wordlessly. It wasn't until we'd crossed that first bridge that brought us into Madison that we finally spoke. "I see you're wearing the vest Namid gave you," Jack was the first to speak. "He told me about that." "I was very honored," Mulder told him earnestly. "You should be," Jack nodded. "Until now, that vest has only been worn by the chiefs of Namid's tribe. His great-grandfather was the first to wear it." "What do the stars mean?" Mulder inquired. "They represent the starlit journey the Fox Indians took from Iowa back to here. The vest was made when they got back here, to commemorate that journey." Since the men were dragging the travois, I didn't have to worry about them going too fast. We stopped early on the first day because of the time that we'd left, but after that we walked as long as the sun shone. As we got closer to the village, I grew more and more excited. I was more sure than ever I'd made the right decision. I couldn't wait to see Omiga and Wanik, and Namid and Migisi and all of the other friends we'd made. Since the journey to Madison had taken 5 days, we thought it would take six to get back, taking into account Apram's original pace and our heavier load. But by late afternoon on the sixth day, we'd only made it back to the spot where Mulder and I had built the lean-to. Since there was no way we could reach the village before nightfall, we decided to stay there for the night. It was an hour or so before we normally stopped, so we had some time before I had to start making supper. "It's been a while since I walked barefoot," Mulder kicked off his moccasins. "The ground feels so cool," he sighed. "Why are my feet so sore? They didn't bother me on the way down." "You are carrying a lot more," I pointed out. "I guess," he agreed, flexing his toes and stretching his back. He was beginning to stretch his neck from side to side when he stopped suddenly, "What's that?" "What's what?" I looked around. "It looks like a book, there in the leaves," he began to walk in the direction he was pointing. My eyes followed his finger, but just as I finally focussed on what he was pointing at, it vanished. "What the--" Mulder continued in the direction he'd been going. He was only a few feet away from where I'd seen the book when he suddenly put a hand to his head. Then I watched in abject horror as Mulder disappeared from my sight. "No!" I screamed and ran toward the place he'd disappeared from. As I got closer, the trees around me began to get wavy and I felt dizzy. Just before everything went black, I heard Jack calling my name. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Old Growth Forest, chapter 10. It's complete folks. Rating: This chapter is PG. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "God, my head hurts," I thought to myself as I began to surface from the most vivid dream I'd ever had. Before I opened my eyes I realized I wasn't in my own bed. Beneath me, the sheets were crisp and rough; I could smell disinfectant and hear the all-too familiar background noises of a hospital. Gingerly, I opened one eye. The bright lights that assaulted me added to the throb in my head. I groaned and shut my eye again quickly. "Are you awake, Scully?" The soft tone of Mulder's question brought back a flood of images from the dream I'd been having. My stomach flip-flopped and my cheeks grew hot. What would Mulder think if he knew what I'd been dreaming? "Yes," I answered in a raspy voice. "But my head really hurts." "You should be okay in a couple of hours." I felt him pick up my hand gently, adding to the fluttery feeling in my stomach. "Are you all right?" I needed to know. He sounded fine, but I couldn't help worrying about him. "I'm fine, Scully." I could hear the smile in his voice. "You're the one hooked up to the IV." "IV?" I hadn't noticed; the pain in my head was overriding everything else. "Why do I need an IV?" "Just to make sure you don't get dehydrated," he explained. When I nodded in understanding, it made my head pound even harder. This was more painful than the worst migraine I'd ever had. "What do you remember, Scully?" "The last thing I remember is having a cup of coffee at the professor's house. What were we--" I began. "That's the last thing you remember?" Mulder's voice shot up an octave. "Well, I did have a really long, vivid dream," I admitted. "That wasn't a dream, Scully." His voice had grown calm again and held a hint of amusement. "It--it had to be," I stammered. "The village, Omiga and Wanik; Madison, Eben and Rosaline, Jack-- it was all real, Scully. " Mulder's free hand came to rest on my abdomen, making me remember another aspect of what I thought had been a dream. Tears squeezed out from under my closed lids. "Am I--am I really?" I didn't have the courage to ask the question. "Yes, we're really pregnant, Scully," he assured me in gentle tones. "The first thing I did when I woke up, was make sure you and the baby were both okay." "*Is* the baby okay?" I was immediately concerned. Despite the pain I knew would follow, I opened my eyes to squint at Mulder. "Shh, close your eyes. The baby is fine. Apparently he time-travels much better than we do." Mulder leaned over and pressed his lips against my forehead. The throb in my head eased at his touch. "He?" I laughed softly. "Well, it sounds better than 'it'," he whispered, his lips still lightly touching me. "Now you go back to sleep. It's the only way you're going to feel better. They gave me some Gravol and a painkiller--the doctor said we were suffering from what looked like a really severe case of vertigo, but they can't give you anything for your symptoms." "They hadn't given me anything before you told them I was pregnant, had they?" I panicked again. "Shh, no, nothing. They knew you were pregnant before I told them-- it's something they check for when a woman of child-bearing age is brought in unconscious." His hand left my belly and began to stroke my cheek. "Relax and go back to sleep. When you feel better we can talk more." His touch had a calming effect; his scent more soothing than any votive I'd ever bought. I closed my eyes and let his presence help me back to sleep. When I woke, I heard my mother's voice. "She's awake, Fox." "Mom," I croaked. This time when I opened my eyes, the bright lights didn't create any stabbing pain behind my eyes, only a mild irritation. "Much better," I breathed. "Can I sit up? I'd like to have something to drink--I'm thirsty." "Let me check with the nurse." Mulder got up and bent to kiss me lightly on the lips. "I'm glad you're feeling better." As he turned to leave, I caught a small smile twitching the corner of my mother's lips. "Did Mulder tell you what happened?" I didn't want to repeat things she already knew. "He didn't tell me where you were, just that you'd been well- treated," she shrugged. "Well-treated?" I laughed. "You make it sound like we were being held hostage." "Well, one of the many charges against Dr. Mettler *is* forcible confinement," she pointed out. "I guess that's true, technically," I had to admit. "What do you mean, technically?" She arched an eyebrow at me. I was about to explain when Mulder returned with the nurse. Before she would let me sit up and have a drink, the nurse insisted on checking my vitals. Once satisfied, she adjusted the bed and Mulder helped me sit up. "Are you up to anything to eat?" She was fussing with my IV after having given me a glass of water with a bendable straw bobbing around in it. "I'm a bit hungry," I decided when the cool water hit my empty stomach. "I'll see about getting you some broth and Jello; you don't want to shock your system," she advised before she hurried off. "Are you going to tell me what happened now?" I immediately recognized the impatient tone of my mother's voice. "Why didn't you explain it, Mulder?" I was confused. "I'd thought you'd like to tell your Mom," he shrugged. "Okay," I replied slowly, not being sure why he wouldn't have told her. So I took a deep breath and launched into the story. Even though Mulder had apparently been afraid to tell my mother, he wasn't shy about interjecting details here and there that I'd left out. I intentionally neglected to mention any aspect of my personal relationship with Mulder and finished by telling her how I'd blacked out in the wood and woken up here. "I don't understand why all of a sudden you wanted to go back and live with the Indians. I mean, I know that you liked them, but what made you decide?" My mother wondered. "You don't have a problem believing we went back in time?" I laughed. "It is astounding, but if you say that's what happened, I believe you." "I did leave out the main reason I wanted to go back to the village," I confessed. "What?" Her eyes grew wide. "I'm pregnant," I couldn't help beaming. "Pregnant? How?" she gasped. "Well, I know how," she blushed, glancing at Mulder, "but I thought you couldn't." "I thought so too," I smiled, "and we still don't know how, but as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter. I couldn't be happier." My mother's smile lit up her face and I saw tears welling up in her eyes. "Do you know how far along you are?" She was blinking rapidly. "They did an ultrasound," Mulder nodded. "They did?" I was surprised. "They wanted to make sure the baby was okay," he clarified. "So, how far along am I?" "Nine weeks." "Nine weeks? That doesn't sound right, unless I've been out cold for a couple of weeks." I quickly did the math. "I said the same thing. I told the doctor exactly when I thought you'd conceived. He said my dates sounded right, but the pregnancy was calculated from your last period," Mulder explained. "Of course," I shook my head. "I knew that--I'm still a little groggy." Before my food arrived, a tall, pleasant-looking doctor came to check on me. I reiterated all of my concerns about the baby, but he assured me everything was fine. But to be on the safe side, he wanted me to rest for a couple of days -- and he wanted that rest to be in the hospital. When I protested mildly, Mulder and my mother sided with the doctor. So I retreated, knowing I wouldn't win this one. "When are you going to explain how we got back?" I asked Mulder as he was kissing me good-night; my mother was waiting in the hall. "I was going to leave that to Skinner and the Gunmen, since they were responsible," he smiled. "Skinner and the *Gunmen*?" I was astonished. "Yup, they're coming to visit you tomorrow. I didn't want you to be overwhelmed today," he informed me before kissing me again. "*Skinner*? And the Gunmen?" I repeated, still not believing it. "Yes, Skinner and the Gunmen," Mulder laughed. "You get some rest, I'll see you tomorrow." Before he could straighten up, I pulled him into another kiss. This one was less chaste than our recent kisses had been. I relished the feeling of his tongue teasing mine. For some reason, I still had a nagging doubt about his feelings for me, but as his hand tangled in my hair and his tongue plunged deeper into my mouth, my fears melted away. "I should go," his voice had grown nicely hoarse. "I wish I could come too," I grinned unashamedly at him. "I'm really feeling much better." "Just another day or two," he breathed, "to make sure the baby is okay." "Oh sure, play the baby card," I chuckled. "I want you both to be safe," he told me earnestly. "I know, Mulder. I miss you, that's all," I lowered my voice. "Okay, I'm going now and if you continue this behavior, I'll tell your mother," he threatened me. In retaliation, I stuck my tongue out at him. He was laughing when the door closed behind him. I wiggled around in the bed, trying to get comfortable and drifted off to sleep, the memory of his kiss soothing me. When I opened my eyes the following morning I was shocked to find Mulder asleep in a chair. "Oh, Mulder," I breathed. "You should have slept in a bed." "I wouldn't have slept without you, Scully," he smiled and sat up. "C'mere," I crooked my finger. When he was within reach, I grabbed him and kissed him fiercely. "I love you," I whispered when I'd let go of him. "I love *you*, Scully. And I hope we never have to spend another night apart." "Not if I can help it," I promised. "When did you come back?" "After I dropped your mother off," he explained. "My mother! How is she going to get back here?" "She suggested I should come back when she saw how distracted I was. She said she could take a cab this morning. I offered to come and pick her up, but she said she would never forgive me if I did." After breakfast, which was surprisingly similar to what I'd been eating for the past seven weeks, the nurse arrived to take care of a few things. When she told us what she was going to do, Mulder announced he was going to get some breakfast. I was glad to be rid of the IV, but I will never get used to the indignity of having a catheter removed. I generally wasn't conscious when they were inserted. When Mulder came back with his coffee and muffin, the nurse was gone; he looked relieved. "Everything okay?" he grimaced. "Just peachy," I informed him, wryly. My mother showed up bearing gifts -- well, flowers and my suitcase. Honestly, I was happier to see my suitcase and immediately changed into a pair of my silk pajamas. Then I brushed my teeth, combed my hair and put some moisturizer on my face. As I was smoothing the thin cream over my cheeks, I caught sight of my hand. My nails were ragged and chipped and my skin was dry and chapped. I wondered how long my hands would take to recuperate. When I opened the bathroom door, Mulder was standing there with my moccasins in his hand. "Oh, Mulder," I gasped, "I'd completely forgotten. Thank you." I reached up and put my arms around his neck. His arms slipped around me and I instantly relaxed. Not that I'd been tense, but my body seemed to calm at his touch. "So we have my dress too, and your clothes?" "Well, not my moccasins, I'd taken them off, remember?" "Right," I was a bit disappointed, "but you do have your pants and vest?" "I do, and you wouldn't believe the money I've been offered for that vest," Mulder commented. "As long as you have the pants," I grinned up at him. "I *really* like those pants." My mother chuckled from her chair and I felt my cheeks flush. Why was it I felt like I was 17 again? I wondered if I'd ever get used to being a sexual being around my mother. I was back in my bed showing my mother the beadwork on my moccasins and telling her more about Wanik when Skinner appeared in the doorway. "Are you up to some company?" He looked a little unsure. "Sure," I smiled. It had always tickled me that he was so different away from the office. He disappeared for a moment and then reappeared with the Gunmen trailing after him. They all smiled and politely said hello to my mother when she greeted them "How did you guys get involved in this?" I asked after I'd said hello. "I brought them out here," Skinner informed me. "You did?" I couldn't hide my shock. "Maybe I should start at the beginning," Skinner suggested and then leaned up against the wall. "When you and Mulder hadn't checked in with the Milwaukee field office, they called to see if you'd checked in with me. It had been almost a week since anyone had heard from you." "Why did it take them a week?" Mulder interrupted. He'd vacated the chair he'd been sitting in and had settled next to me on the bed. "Your reputation, Mulder -- they assumed you weren't following proper protocol," Skinner wasn't happy to tell him. Mulder drew a breath as if he was getting ready to debate the issue, but Skinner stopped him. "I know what you're going to say, Mulder and I've already taken a pound of flesh on your behalf and one of my own; plus there's an internal investigation underway." I slipped my hand into Mulder's and squeezed it gently. He squeezed back and smiled softly at me to let me know he was okay. When I looked back in Skinner's direction, I found all of the Gunmen staring at Mulder and me in surprise. Our boss, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice. He continued with his story, undeterred. "So, I got on the next plane. When I got here, they hadn't accomplished much of anything. I decided to start at the beginning and go over the police records myself. Then I hit the streets to see if anyone there remembered you. A few people did, and they also said they'd told you about the professor, but no one knew his name, so I decided to try the university." Mulder and I both chuckled; Skinner paused, waiting for us to explain. "You're describing the exact steps we took," Mulder smiled. Skinner nodded, "So I gathered when I got to UW. They remembered you, too, but *they* were able to tell me they'd sent you to a former colleague, Dr. Mettler. He seemed surprised to see me, but invited me in. He claimed no one fitting your description had been to see him, but I grew suspicious when he kept trying to get me to drink something." Mulder and I exchanged guilty glances, but Skinner said nothing. "We had a Bureau credit card receipt from a gas station a couple miles from his place, and the attendant remembered giving you -- well, giving Scully actually -- directions to Mettler's street." I was impressed with Skinner's investigative skills. I was so used to his role as an administrator, I'd forgotten he'd done his share of field work. "I came back the next day with a warrant and a forensic team. It didn't take long to find your fingerprints and a couple of what we assumed were Scully's hairs. We couldn't find anything that indicated you'd been harmed in any way, but when I confronted Mettler with the fact that we could prove you'd been there, he cracked. At first, I thought he was completely off his rocker, but then he explained the set-up we'd found in his basement." "The time machine," Mulder interjected. "So it would seem," Skinner nodded. "But it looked like nothing more than a computer when we'd first discovered it. At that point we still weren't sure what it was and when I pressed him for details, he just kept babbling about how it had been a failure -- how it only worked with inanimate objects. The local cops took him away, and he's being held pending psychiatric evaluation." "What made him think it only worked on inanimate objects?" I was puzzled. "Like I said, at this point, we didn't know what his set-up was supposed to do. I needed to access his notes, which were on his computer and I couldn't make heads or tails of it," Skinner admitted. "And you called these guys?" I laughed. "The Bureau has all kinds of computer experts." "None that know how to dissect a computer as completely as these gentlemen." Skinner's mouth twitched as he spoke. "Gentlemen?" Mulder snorted. "And don't you mean hack?" "I was asked not to refer to it as hacking. Hackers are unskilled and if they accomplish anything, it is only through pure luck." I heard a hint of sarcasm in Skinner's voice, but the Gunmen hadn't detected it -- they puffed up like little peacocks at his words. Skinner then turned to the guys to let them carry on the tale, and Byers picked up where he'd left off. "It only took Langly ten minutes to by-pass the professor's elaborate security, but that was the easy part," he began. "It took all four of us almost three weeks to match up his data with the corresponding digital diary entries. As we started to make the connections, it became increasingly clear Mettler had *indeed* successfully retrieved each person he'd sent into the past. The horrifying part was when Skinner finally realized when the professor said 'failure', he meant the subject hadn't survived. All ten experiments had been labeled as failures." Byers' tone was grave. "They all died?" I was shocked. "What did he do with the bodies?" "We wondered that too, but since his house backed onto the woods, we thought it would be a good place to start," Skinner took over again. "I called in a forensic recovery team; they found and exhumed all ten bodies. But when the autopsies were complete, the M.E. couldn't point to a cause of death. A few of the bodies were too decomposed to recover any information except for age and gender. The bodies that could be fully autopsied weren't of much more help. Some of the victims suffered from cirrhosis of the liver and most showed the effects of poor diet, but none exhibited anything that clearly indicated how they'd died. While I was focussed on that part of the investigation, these guys kept plugging away at the computer aspect." "Yeah, as far as we could tell, we had it all figured out," Frohike jumped into the fray. "And it looked like it should work, which is what the professor thought too, I guess. So we were banging our heads up against the wall. That was when Skinman decided we needed professional help." "I asked you not to call me that." Skinner was addressing Frohike, but glaring at Mulder. "And I thought you needed professional help the first time I laid eyes on you." "You should've seen who came to help," Langly interjected. "Is there some requirement for lady physicists to have red hair?" "So hot!" Frohike sighed. "You should've seen her when we first showed her the time machine--she was like a kid in a candy store." He had a far-away look in his eyes. "Her name was Dr. McIsaac, by the way," Skinner told us. I stole a glance at my mother; she hadn't said a word since she'd greeted everyone. As each person took his turn in recounting the events she would turn her head toward them. She seemed to be finding it all as entertaining as I was. "So Julie -- Dr. McIsaac -- couldn't see why it hadn't worked either," Frohike continued. "The only thing we could think of was studying everything that was sent through much more thoroughly, to see if we could figure out what might have gone wrong." "You mean Julie wanted to be more thorough," Langly contradicted. "You wanted to send yourself back to Dallas on November 22, 1963, with a digital video camera." "Julie said she would do it once we could do it safely," Frohike retorted. "And we were almost there." "What happened?" I tried to get them back on track. "We were still in the process of seeing if there were any changes to things we sent through on the cellular level when you two suddenly appeared. First Mulder and then Scully landed right on top of him," Frohike laughed. "You hadn't figured it out? How did we survive?" I was confused again. "We figured out squat," Frohike shrugged. I turned to Skinner, hoping he would be a little more helpful. "He's right, Dana, we can only speculate right now. My best guess is you survived for two reasons. First, you both are in better health than any of the other subjects and second, you weren't brought back right away," Skinner theorized. "From talking to Mulder it sounds like you both suffered from this travel sickness when you first arrived, but it dissipated after a couple of hours. The best we can figure is the original subjects didn't survive because Mettler sent them back and then retrieved them within a matter of minutes. Maybe because of their poor health their bodies couldn't handle the shock." "It shouldn't take much more research to figure that out," I noted. All four men exchanged quick glances. "What?" Mulder and I asked in unison. "The time machine is gone," Byers informed us in a steady voice. "Gone?" Mulder repeated. "We had just loaded the two of you into an ambulance when a black sedan pulled into the driveway," Skinner started to explain. "I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Norman Schwartzkopf and Colin Powell get out." "Who?" I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. "I swear that's who it was," Skinner assured me. "I don't know what you had with your Wheaties, Skinman, but it was Bill Gates and Steve Jobs who carted off the computer and all of our research," Frohike argued. "With your help," Langly ribbed. "Well, they asked nicely," Frohike tried to defend himself. "So, let me get this straight. You let them walk away with the time machine?" Mulder clarified. Four heads nodded, and not one of them would meet our eyes. "But Dr. McIsaac knows how it works. Couldn't she build another one?" Mulder clung to a faint hope. "That's the other strange thing," Skinner shook his head. "She was at home, getting some rest, when all of this happened. When I tried to get in touch with her, I got a recording saying that number was no longer in service. Then I called UW and they said they'd never heard of a Dr. McIsaac." "I thought they gave you her name." My head was starting to hurt again. "They said they hadn't talked to me since the day I'd been there looking for information on Dr. Mettler," Skinner held his hands up in defeat. "Why am I not surprised to hear that?" Mulder rolled his eyes. "I knew she was too good to be true," Frohike sighed. "You never had a chance, Melvin," Skinner groused. "And you did, Skinman?" Frohike quipped. "Okay, I think it's time for you guys to go," Mulder stood up. "I asked you not to call me that," Skinner repeated as Mulder herded them out of the room. "Then stop calling me Melvin," Frohike countered. After the door closed, I could still hear them bickering in the hall. I'm sure they were all extremely embarrassed to have been duped. "I'm still confused." My mother shook her head. When Mulder and I tried to explain about the men in black, and the government taking the time machine for its own use, it all sounded even more convoluted. "Never mind," She held up her hand. "You're both safe; that's all that matters to me." When the doctor showed up during his rounds that afternoon, I managed to convince him I was fine. He agreed to release me on the condition that I rested for a couple of days before we flew back to D.C. That evening we shared a meal with my mother at the hotel before retiring to our room. I was lying in Mulder's arms, still glowing from our lovemaking, when I had an idea. "Do you have plans for tomorrow?" "Not really," he answered sleepily. "I thought we might take your mother sight-seeing." "That fits in nicely with what I'd like to do," I wiggled back against him. "What would you like to do?" He nuzzled my neck. "I thought we might be able to find a place where we could buy you some moccasins, to replace the ones you lost." "It wouldn't really be the same," he pointed out. "I know, but we could get authentic ones if we look in the right place. It's just something we could wear more regularly than the clothes to remind us -- kind of symbolic. You know what I mean?" I wasn't sure if he was conscious enough to understand me. "You miss it a bit?" Mulder asked softly. "I do. I mean, I wouldn't choose to go back; I missed my family too much. But I'd come to terms with it; I thought that was going to be my life." I tried to explain. "I know what you mean," Mulder tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. "I was looking forward to seeing everyone again. It feels as though we should be able to just drive over there." "I know, it's strange to be separated by time, rather than distance," I agreed. "Where did you want to buy the moccasins?" "I don't know. We can figure that out tomorrow," I yawned. "Mmm," he concurred. Soon he was snoring softly in my ear, and I followed him to sleep not long after. By 10 o'clock the following morning we were on the road heading upstate. Using my laptop, I'd discovered that there was a reservation north of Green Bay that claimed to have a wide variety of authentic Native arts and crafts for sale in a store run by the band. We stopped for lunch along the way at a quaint restaurant just outside of Oshkosh. The drive turned out to be spectacular, the fall colors being out in full force. We even stopped a couple of times to take some pictures. We got to the reservation around 3 and found the store with little trouble. We spent a long time looking around; my mother decided to take advantage of the occasion to do most of her Christmas shopping. Mulder and I found all kinds of moccasins -- some were even fur-lined, but we wanted plain. We found what we were looking for and a lot more. I found a blend of herbs that reminded me of the tea we'd been given in the village and a dream-catcher I really liked, although we hadn't seen anything like that. Mulder found a book on native legends and I couldn't resist buying one on folk medicine. Both of us reached for a cookbook at the same time, and we bought a couple of pounds of wild rice, too. The clerk smiled when we put everything down on the counter, "Did you find everything you were looking for?" "And then some," Mulder laughed. When we were finished, my mother unloaded her selections onto the counter. "Are you folks from out of state?" she smiled. "Is it that obvious?" Mulder grimaced. "If you lived nearby, I doubt you'd buy so much at once," she shrugged. "True," Mulder nodded. "We're from the D.C. area." "Never been there," the clerk informed us. "But I'd love to see the Smithsonian. I hear it has some cool stuff in it." "I've never even seen it properly," I admitted. "It would take days to see the whole thing." "Isn't that the way when you live close to something?" she shook her head. "You never really appreciate what you have." "It's true," I had to agree. "When we go on vacation we always want to go to some distant place, when there is plenty to do right in our own backyard." "Seems like more of a vacation when someone else makes the bed and cooks the food, though" she winked. When she'd bagged all of our purchases we discovered we had too many parcels to carry ourselves, so she graciously offered to help. When we were almost out of the door I heard someone call my name from the back of the shop, but they pronounced it Day-na. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The clerk turned around, "What, Sandie?" "Phone," the voice informed her. "I'm busy, tell whoever it is I'll call them back in a minute." "Okay," Sandie sang from her hiding place. "Your name is Day-na?" Mulder inquired as we headed out to the car. "Yup," she nodded. "Is it a traditional name?" "It is. I know it sounds like an Anglo-Saxon name, but there's a legend behind it," she told us. "Really?" Mulder sounded interested. "You want to hear it?" "Please," Mulder smiled; my mother and I nodded. "Well, I'm a Fox Indian -- there aren't many of us around here, most of the Fox Indians live in Oklahoma. Anyway, the legend says the totem of the Mesquakie, the fox, visited us in the form of a white man to show us that eventually we would all live in peace together." As she told the story I could feel goosebumps starting to rise on my skin. My mother knew enough about our experience to be staring in disbelief. A big grin was spreading across Mulder's face. "He brought his mate with him, and although she was in human form, she still had the red hair of the fox. She possessed a special healing gift and saved the life of the child who would grow up to make peace with the white man. The fox and his mate liked being in human form so much they wanted to stay and live among us. But it was not meant to be and the spirits pulled them back to their own world." Hearing this made me realize Jack must have told the story of our disappearance to everyone at the village. In the time we'd been back I hadn't really had time to think about the effect it might have had. But I would never have expected what she was about to say. "I am named for the fox's mate -- it means breath of life." end Please send feedback to ardywyn@hotmail.com