I

September 2000

"I am dead, Mulder. Completely, utterly dead."

His reply was an agreeing mumble of sorts then, louder, "When I get the strength I'm going to get in that hot tub. Any minute now."

They were sprawled a foot or so apart sideways atop the embroidered white coverlet of a huge king-sized four-poster bed: Scully on her stomach, he on his back with arms thrown above his head. The bed was made of a light but strong-looking wood—cedar or pine, she thought—and draped with gauzy white material that was tied back against the high posts. The room was equally light and airy, with pale green walls, a high cathedral ceiling and large set of bay windows flanked with sheer white curtains and containing a reading nook complete with cushions. A few feet from the end of the bed was a pale jade-and-white tile-surrounded fireplace, and in the corner across from it was a dark green four-person Jacuzzi surrounded by the same tile for two feet or so in every direction. Nearby was a small blonde wood desk with two chairs, equally useful for working or eating. On the other wall, visible from the bed, table, and hot tub, was a light wood cabinet which held a large-screen TV and wet bar, all of which Mulder was eying from his prone position. "Nicest room we've ever stayed in on the Bureau's dime, eh, Scully."

She managed to turn her head to gaze at him through a curtain of red strands. Her hair, usually sprayed into a stylish multilayered bob, was stringy with sweat and straggled frizzily around her face. "Yes, but the only part of it I'm interested in right now is that tub. Flip you for first soak."

"We don't have to take turns. It'll fit both of us comfortably."

The one eyebrow he could see lifted. "Did you bring your suit?"

"I'm supposed to be on vacation, of course I did. I'm assuming you brought yours?"

"I always do, not that most of the places we stay in have pools or hot tubs." Finally she made to push herself back and stand up. "Ugh. I have muscles hurting that I didn't know I had. And that's saying a lot coming from a doctor."

He put a hand out, wordlessly asking for help up, and Scully grasped it, not really doing any helping as he sat up on his own and gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm glad we did the second, advanced tour, but maybe we should have waited a day."

"Yeah, but at least now we know for certain that Lucy's still here," Scully said, dropping his hand and going over to where their suitcases were side-by-side on the blonde wood dresser near the windows. Mulder had been getting more and more physical with her over the last few months and she wasn't quite sure what to do about it, and this assignment couldn't have come at a worse—or better, depending—time as far as that was concerned. When they'd gone undercover in Arcadia she'd been pretty pissed off at him thanks to Diana Fowley so it hadn't been difficult to blow off his innuendos, but this was different. They were getting along really well after the successful Maleeni case and Scully found her mind going to places that she really didn't want it to go more and more often. "At least we didn't have to take any more tours before we found the girl."

"There is that," Mulder agreed, passing behind her and disappearing into the bathroom. Scully opened her mouth, and then shut it. She wasn't changing out here, and he'd better not take too long.

Luckily for him, he didn't. She found her one-piece swimsuit and a large shirt she'd brought to use as a cover-up, and took them into the bathroom after he exited. There she changed and put on the oversized men's short-sleeved denim shirt—which had once belonged to her brother Bill—and folded her dirty, sweaty clothes with her underthings inside. The moment she left the bathroom the first thing she saw was Mulder sprawled in the filling hot tub and the sight stopped her in her tracks momentarily. He was staring the opposite way, probably at the TV. Does he really have no idea of what he looks like? she thought, gazing at what seemed like yards of long bare limbs and a tight, lean, muscular masculine torso interrupted only by a dark blue trunk-type bathing suit. Well, at least it's not that red Speedo I've heard about—that would be it for me. I may not act like it much any more but I am a healthy, red-blooded woman with a normal libido.

"What're you waiting for, Scully, the tub's almost full," he turned and called over the sound of the rushing water, giving her a lazy half-smile that caused her heart to do things that she really didn't want it to do. "Although I don't think you're going to take up much space. What, no eensy-weensy string bikini?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, not deigning to reply to his last sally as she approached and took her shirt off, tossing it onto the bed with her dirty clothes. Dipping a hand in the water, she found it hot but not unbearably so and stepped over the edge into the tub, holding onto the bar bolted to the wall for just that purpose. "You know, my being small isn't necessarily a bad thing," she said as she carefully lowered herself to the seat on his left, nearly against the spigot, threading her legs beneath his. "At least I don't take up three-quarters of a four-person hot tub."

"Four people who are really good friends, maybe." He grinned at her lazily and then put his head back against the rim of the tub. "I'm too tired to bicker, or even trade innuendos," he said to the ceiling as he moved his legs over so that she had more room. "And you know that means I'm really tired."

"No kidding," Scully huffed, sliding off the seat into the open middle section and sinking down to her chin. The nicest thing about this new short, layered haircut was that she didn't have to put her hair up in a situation like this when she didn't want to get it wet, but the bad thing was that it was too short to put up in a ponytail when she'd sweated her way through two strenuous cave tours today. "Oh, this is just the thing," she said, closing her eyes and groaning as the hot water soaked into her tense neck and shoulders.

"Better turn the water off or we're going to overflow."

Scully opened one eye to glare at him, but he was still gazing at the ceiling. And she was closer to the controls so she capitulated without argument and sat up again on the hard plastic seat to shut off the running water, bracing her legs beneath his against the opposite seat. Without warning him, she hit the button to start the jets and suppressed her amusement when a strong stream of water hit his back. He hadn't had his legs braced on the opposite side, however, so he slid off the seat and into the open area in the middle of the tub with a yelp. Unfortunately, he landed on her legs and pulled her down with him. Luckily for both of them, the tub wasn't very deep so neither's head went beneath the water. "Ow, ow, ow, Mulder, get off!" she yelled as his weight landed squarely across her outstretched legs.

"I'm trying, I'm trying!" he yelled back, turning to the side so that his dark-covered ass was almost in her face, scrambling to reach the side of the tub and pull himself up.

Scully managed to twist her legs to the other side as his weight receded, pulling herself back into her seat. "You are such a klutz, Mulder!"

"Are you all right?" he turned and asked as she slipped out from beneath him and he managed to re-seat himself. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, I'm fine, you startled me more than anything," she said, bracing her legs against the seat across from her again to hold her in place. There were strong jets at the back of each seat at lower-back level that made it difficult to stay in place. "I didn't know these jets were so powerful when I turned it on."

He grinned over at her, droplets of water sparkling on his face and in his spiky hair. "What, you don't want to have me fall all over you?"

She gave him The Look. "You and your big feet do enough of that without my help, Mulder," she said drily, turning away to glance over her shoulder to see what he'd been looking at. "Besides, I thought you were too tired for innuendos." Sure enough, the TV was on and showing an old black and white movie, something that had a very young Cary Grant in old-fashioned flying clothes arguing with a spirited blonde she didn't recognize. "What's this?"

"Only Angels Have Wings, 1939," he said. "I'm not usually that into old movies, but this is a good one. Was one of my dad's favorites. It's almost over, though."

"Good thing, too, because I'm going to bed soon," she said, laying her head back against the tub rim.

"Aw, come on, Scully, it's barely six o'clock!" he protested. "It's not like we've got separate rooms and I can go watch TV somewhere else."

"Is it really that early?" she yawned. "Feels a lot later. I am kind of hungry; guess we could order room service."

"Now you're talkin'," he drawled, eyes still on the TV though the side of his mouth quirked. "Oh, by the way, I liked your ditzy act around that tour guide and the way you grabbed my arm like I was the big, strong male who would protect you."

It was a good thing that the tub was surrounded by tile, because carpet would have been ruined by the splashing water-fight that promptly ensued.