Chapter 3: Cabin for Two

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely coincidental.

Music for this chapter can be found at youtubedotcom/jmollytwilight2, on the playlist 'Twi-Files: The Truth', beginning at #3:

'Meet Me Halfway', by the Black Eyed Peas

To learn about porphyria, go to porphyriafoundationdotcom/about

July 4th, 2010:

At a Sol Duc Hot Springs Resort:

"How on earth did you get the Finance Department to sign off on this?" Scully asked, gobsmacked. She set her suitcase and dog carrier down in the cabin's sitting room, looking around incredulously.

"Believe it or not, because it's the peak season for tourists, this is the cheapest thing available within 300 miles. Happy Fourth of July."

"You're kidding," Scully gawped. She walked around the cabin, opening doors and peering in. "Bathroom's here," she indicated. "Wow. Jacuzzi? We're at a hot spring. Why would anybody need a Jacuzzi at a hot spring resort, Mulder?"

"Maybe if it rains," he said absently, checking out the kitchen. There were four sets of plates and cups in the cupboard, and a fry-pan on the stove, and cutlery in the drawer. Little fridge. No food. Not even a ridiculously over-priced mini-bar. Definitely no gift basket. Oh, well. They could always pick some groceries up at the Piggly Wiggly while they were there. Or else they could eat out. As usual.

It had been a long, and very tiring day. Seeing as they had a lot of territory to cover, they had gone straight from the airport to the morgue in Seattle, and Scully had examined the two most recent victims. She found something odd. Something that had Mulder crowing smugly. Both bodies had a couple of teeth marks in them. Marks that someone amateur had attempted to disguise by cutting, tearing, and otherwise abusing the soft tissues of the bodies.

At least she had determined that the victims had already been dead at the time. Scully completed her reports, and requests for lab testing, made her molds of the teeth marks, and asked the coroner to hold the bodies a couple more days.

Whilst Scully was doing these unpleasant jobs, Mulder was interviewing the homicide detective in charge of the case. He didn't really learn anything more than he already knew. Except for one thing: He never wanted to take care of Queequag for Dana again, even if it did earn him brownie points.

The animal didn't like him. Admittedly, Mulder didn't like it, either. Queequag viewed him as a threat to the relationship he had with his mistress. Mulder viewed Queequag as some kind of sick monster, since he had snacked on his former, dearly departed owner instead of electing to starve to death. Dana hadn't had him very long and Mulder wasn't over it.

The first time he'd been at Dana's, and the dog had humped his leg, he had hoofed it across the room when she wasn't looking. As a result, the dog had decided he was Enemy Number One. Plus, the dog didn't want to take a leak while wearing its leash. And there was no way Mulder was taking it off-leash. The damn thing would run off and get itself killed, just to spite him.

After she was finished with the autopsies, Scully had showered at the hospital, put her business attire back on, and sidestepped the comments of the flirtatious coroner. She then met up with Mulder to discuss their findings and thank him for taking care of the dog.

There was plenty of speculation, to Mulder's delight, in the car during the four hour drive north east, to Sol Duc. They located the resort (no problem there), presented themselves, and were directed to their cabin.

When they saw how nice it was, compared to the places they were accustomed to staying, a lot of their weariness melted away.

"I call this room," Scully yelled cheerfully from somewhere inside it. She returned to the main room to get Queequag's carrier, porting it to the bedroom she'd chosen.

" 'Kay," Mulder said, unzipping his laptop case and pulling out his papers and files. There was a desk in the corner of the main room beside the TV armoire. Mulder carried his stuff over to it, and discovered WiFi. He smiled smugly, and arranged things the way he liked them. That is to say, he dumped everything in a heap.

He stood, hands on hips, staring at the blank expanse of wall above the desk, wondering if he could get away with putting up a cork board for his notes and clippings. Of course, if he could get settled quickly, there might just be time for a little fun. A few fireworks. Not that Dana would be game.

But no sense in skipping the opportunity to flirt. Someday, it might just get him somewhere. "I can't seem to find the stationery in here. Can you come and help me?" he drawled in a very bad British accent.

"Very funny, Mister Bond." Dana's voice sounded odd. All huffy. And he could hear banging, and the squeaking of bed-springs. What could she be up to?

Mulder got up casually and walked to the bathroom, and movement from the next open doorway immediately caught his eye. His partner was bouncing up and down on the bed like a kid. The stupid damn dog watched adoringly from his cage on the floor, with his front paws crossed.

"Wow, Scully. It's been too long since I took you someplace nice," Mulder remarked, gawping a little. It wasn't like Dana to be playful. He stared at her tits, wondering how the hell she kept them from jiggling around. The woman must wear iron brassieres.

He could live with that.

"All work and no play makes Fox a dull boy," she flirted, kneeling on the bed with her hair falling over one eye. It was tousled and hot and made Mulder want to launch himself across the room at her. But he didn't, because it might ruin everything they had. And he couldn't bear to lose Dana Scully.

But that knowledge was not enough to keep heat from surging straight to his groin. "I hope you brought a nice dress, Scully. I'm taking you out to dinner tonight," he stated as she shrugged out of her rain jacket.

"Every time you say that, we get in some crisis where somebody kidnaps one of us, or puts us in the hospital, or something," she dismissed him, pulling out her gun and holster, and setting them on in the bedside table. She unpacked her handcuffs and put them with the gun. Her pencil skirt hitched up as she crawled around on the bed. Mulder tried not to drool all over the rug.

"Fine. We'll wing it instead of making plans. I'm good at winging it," he shrugged, riveted to the picture before him, as she rolled to the side of the bed and stood up. Was that a white thong under the skirt?

"Yeah. You're great at winging it," Scully confirmed, pulling her suitcase over and opening it so she could unpack. "So where do we start?" she called to Mulder, who was beating a strategic retreat to the main room to adjust himself before she noticed his wood. Yeah, he could think of some fireworks, alright.

"We're going to see the police chief in Forks first thing in the morning," he told his partner. "So the big question is, where do we find dinner tonight?"

"Why don't we kill two birds with one stone?" Scully suggested. "We can eat at La Bella Italia, and do some interviews at the same time."

Somewhere along the line, he mused, their roles had been reversed. Dana was the one working ceaselessly for the X-Files, and Mulder was the one who wanted a night off. How out of character.

Mulder sighed, exasperated. "Scully, I was not thinking about starting interviews tonight. I was thinking about taking a lovely woman out to dinner on a Sunday evening, relaxing, maybe go to the hot springs later to wind down? A quiet night."

Scully hesitated, torn. "Mulder, that sounds kind of like a ... date," she said, chewing her lip.

"Hey, we go out all the time," Mulder protested.

"Well, then,... can I make a suggestion?" Scully asked.

"Always. You know how I value your opinion." Mulder said earnestly.

"It's been a long day. And God knows how long we'll be allowed to stay here, which means an early start tomorrow and another long day to try and speed things along. How 'bout we order a pizza and a movie and stay in? I'll even put on the dress if you want."

Wow. A concession without any argument, Mulder thought. "Okay. But you don't have to dress up. I'd rather spend a casual evening together, actually."

"Jammies?"

"Yep."

"I can't believe I said 'pizza'," Scully said, eyes rolling. "The last time we had a run-in with vampires, the trouble started with the pizza."

"Can't be the same MO as Ronnie Strickland," Mulder said. "There are too many different kinds of vampire. This one won't be drugging the pizza while posing as a delivery guy. We should be safe with pizza. Just don't ask for Chinese."

"Okay. I think I'll go get a shower, if you don't mind. You want to order?"

"Fully loaded?" Mmm. That could be taken a couple of ways. Mulder eyed Scully with heavy lids.

"You bet."

Yeah. "Okay. Scoot."

Twenty minutes later, Scully came out of the bathroom, clad in aquamarine blue satin pyjamas, with her hair damp and make-up free. Mulder was just glad that she wasn't wearing the green mud pack.

He hadn't seen her wearing this little number before. True, it was nothing more than a short-sleeved button-down with matching boxers, but it made her legs look like they went on forever.

She pulled up a spot on the sofa across from the TV, crossing her legs -God help him- on the seat, and Mulder, clad in his faded black sweat pants and t-shirt, slipped his arm around her shoulders per usual.

He really hoped she wouldn't notice his hard-on. Unless, of course, that meant she was willing to do something about it.

It was a comfortable routine for them to unwind together this way, although the pyjamas only happened if they were away from home. But Saturday nights were often spent renting something to watch. They liked each others' company. They didn't call it dating. They just said they were spending time together. Like friends.

Only tonight, for some reason, Mulder was having a real problem reining in his dick.

It had been years since either of them had dated anybody.

It had been a long time since he'd gotten laid.

It had been a long, long time since he'd wanted to be with anybody but Dana Scully.

Fifteen minutes later, the pizza and Coke arrived. They set themselves up with the pizza box on the coffee table, glad to have actual plates to eat off of, and settled in to watch "She's Out of My League."

They enjoyed their pizza and some friendly banter, and laughed aloud at the movie, which didn't seem to miss a joke about the follies of dating and relationships. The pair, who were normally pretty close-mouthed about past dating disasters, even shared a couple of war stories.

Scully found it necessary to let Queequag out of his cage. After slurping up his dinner and water, and doing a quick jobby outside, he decided his evening's entertainment would be to get between that interloping Mulder person and his kind mistress.

Mulder was not impressed. Of course, the dog was the interloper. He and Scully had been spending their nights off this way for at least ... four or five years. Albeit with more clothing. But, seeing as the Pomeranian was snapping at him, and practically dancing on his balls, Mulder figured there was nothing to be done, but give up and back off to the far side of the couch. The dog was really cramping his style.

But, to his amazement, for once, Scully wasn't impressed either. "Queequag!" she scolded. "Bad dog. No bark. Bad."

The dog darted up her front to lick her face. Lucky little bastard. Scully pushed him down. "You come back and sit like you were, Mulder," Scully directed, grasping the dog firmly. Mulder slid over and put his arm back around his partner. The dog, predictably, went ballistic.

"Can't you put him away?" Mulder whined, backing off again and protecting his junk. The animal was a total cock-blocker, he decided.

"You're going to have to dominate him," Scully decided.

Mulder gawped. "I'm gonna have to what?"

"Dominate him. You don't watch 'The Dog Whisperer', do you?"

"No," Mulder replied, nonplussed. His idea of a good show would be a 1950's B-movie about aliens. Or porn. He watched a lot of porn. More and more since he stopped dating. And started taking his partner seriously. And started thinking she was hot enough to melt the polar icecaps.

"Well, there's this guy on TV who trains dogs, and he says you have to be firm with them and not allow them to feel like they're the boss. The human has to be calm and collected and boss the dog and never be unkind to it," Scully informed him.

"And how's that going with Queequag?" Mulder asked, eyeing the dog like it was a demon from the darkest pits of Hell. All his teeth were showing. The dog's, too.

"Pretty well, actually. Honestly, Mulder, I won't let him bite you. Come back here. Scootch over."

"Alright Scully."

"Now, if he starts misbehaving, I'm going to hold him down on his side and tell him 'no'. Then, you touch me casually a couple of times. If he barks again, I'll hold him down again. We'll keep on with that, while you act cool. Then, I bet he'll calm down for good."

"That would be nice, Scully," Mulder said, wondering what kind of touches were actually considered casual, and what would be considered over-the-line.

Half an hour later, the damn dog was sitting on his lap, grinning, tongue lolling happily. Scully was smiling smugly. And Mulder was still looking uncomfortable.

When the movie was over, there was a little awkwardness. How do you sit chastely with somebody you're secretly in love with, after watching a really romantic, sweet movie? Easy. You don't.

Scully suggested taking Queequag for a walk. So, they got dressed again, and put him on his leash, and had a little walk around the resort. The damn dog just wouldn't go. Not that the management was likely to be too impressed with the dog crapping on its grass anyhow. They elected, therefore, to take a little walk down a well-beaten path.

"It's darker than the Black Oil out here," Mulder complained.

"Don't even mention that crap, Mulder. You're giving me the heebie-jeebies," Scully shuddered, hanging onto his arm with one hand and Queequag's red-handled, extendable leash with the other.

"It's like that place down South where we found those predators with the red eyes, that Mothman thing," Mulder continued morbidly, undeterred.

"Mulder! Stop," Scully whined.

"Seriously. I feel like we're being watched," Mulder said, pursing his lips.

There was a 'snick', and a small light appeared in the darkness ahead of them. Two pale faces were made visible by it. A battery-powered lantern, they realized.

The couple was young, Mulder and Scully realized. And familiar.

The young man smiled gently, holding hands with his wife. "Hello," he said, his voice velvety as a chocolate chiffon pie.

"Hi," Mulder answered, bemused.

"Charming night for a walk, but you want to be careful where you go," the beautiful boy said. "Are you staying at the resort?"

"Yes," Scully answered.

"Nice place. Here for your anniversary?" he wondered.

"Uh, no. Business," Mulder answered, wondering how he was going to initiate a conversation that didn't make the couple aware that they were being investigated. Scully blushed.

Their conversational companion looked disconcerted. "Oh," he said lamely. "You look married."

"Yeah, we get that a lot," Scully claimed.

The young man held up the lantern again. Queequag went nuts, and tried to attack him. Swiftly, he reached out, poked the dog in the side of the neck, and said 'Chtt'. The dog shut up and sat on its haunches. The young man stood straight again.

"Dog Whisperer," Scully said excitedly.

"Um, yeah," the youth said, brushing his fingers through his messy hair. "Great show."

" How did you manage that little demon? Are you Jesus?" Mulder asked sarcastically.

"No, certainly not. I'm Edward Cullen," the fellow said, smiling crookedly. "This is my wife, Bella." The way he said her name, like a caress, my-oh-my. He pulled the dark-haired beauty into the circle of light. Her golden eyes reflected strangely in it. She said 'hello' shyly. Then, her eyes wandered back to her husband, who was looking at her like she was something to eat. They shared a smile that spoke of secrets.

"Well, small world," Mulder said gregariously, interrupting the moment. "We're Federal Agents, working on finding the person threatening your father. I'm Fox Mulder, and this is Dana Scully."

"How lovely to meet you," Edward said, shaking hands.

Mulder's eyes widened at the handsome young man's chilly temperature. He looked at him curiously.

"I must admit to you, Agent Mulder, that I am most seriously concerned about this threat. Why someone has targeted my father I don't know. He is such a good person. The most compassionate man I've ever met. I don't understand why anyone would wish to harm him. He's a popular man at the hospital, and he's done all kinds of superb things for this town."

"So you don't have any idea who could be doing this?" Mulder said, watching the Cullen boy closely.

"Sir, if I had any suspicion as to who was doing it, I would tell you,' Edward said seriously.

"What brings you so far from home?" Mulder asked casually.

"Oh, uh, we often come here to the hot springs," Edward shrugged. "It's a nice place to come when we can get a break from our daughter. Romantic, you know? And we have a friend who's getting married in a month. We're helping plan her wedding, so we thought we should check out the catering company here, since her caterer fell through. We weren't very impressed, I'm afraid."

"Too bad," Mulder remarked.

"If you don't mind me saying so," Scully said, "it's very good of you to take in your niece. You're pretty young to be taking on such a big responsibility. Most people don't even get married at your age any more. What's it like for you, raising a little girl?"

"Well, lots of young people do," Edward shrugged again. "Mind you, children don't usually have so many health problems. But she's a good little girl and we love her to bits."

"Is there anything I can do to help? I'm a doctor, with lots of experience regarding unusual health conditions," Scully offered. Both Cullens smiled at her with genuine warmth.

"Uh, thank you. But my father is the leading expert in his field concerning this condition," Edward said. "We manage nicely."

"Do you mind me asking what health condition you suffer from?" Scully asked.

"As close as we can diagnose it, it's a variant of Hereditary Coproporphyria," Edward replied. "Most of us also have a heart condition, so we need a fair bit of care. Bella is at least fortunate in that respect," her husband said, smiling down at her in adoration. "Her heart is perfect." He kissed her hand, and she smiled up at him like he was the center of her universe.

"I'm so sorry to hear you have it," Scully said earnestly. "Is it difficult for you to manage?"

"The symptoms do not exactly match the diagnosis, but porphyrias are extremely tricky to diagnose. My siblings and their spouses and I are extremely lucky to have Carlisle to take care of us. Unfortunately, the literature regarding the condition is very patchy. We did not, for example, realize that it would be contagious to my mate."

Scully turned shocked eyes upon Bella Cullen, who regarded her calmly and smiled self-deprecatingly.

"You don't appear to have much scarring," Scully said, her customary clinical interest taking over. If the Cullens found it offensive, they hid it well. She dropped her eyes, blushing.

Bella smiled reassuringly. "Don't be embarrassed, Dr Scully. We're accustomed to people being curious about us. No, our brother-in-law, Jasper, has the most scars. The kids were found and diagnosed very young, Doctor, except for Jazz. We know how to manage. We stay out of the sun."

"Good place for that," Mulder grumbled. It had drizzled rain most of the day, and now the mosquitoes were out in full force. He slapped at one on his arm, frowning.

"Yes, we love it here. We almost get to be normal," Edward said, smiling. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we want to be home by nine to put Ren to bed. Lovely to meet you both."

"Nice to meet you, too, Mr and Mrs Cullen," Scully said sincerely.

Edward turned his attention to Mulder. "If I may offer you a piece of advice? Please do not wander in the Rainforest at night. Especially carrying a walking snack on a leash. There are mountain lions about, and wolves, and even grizzly bears, and they're not afraid of humans."

"Oh," Mulder said, taken aback. "We'll head on back, then."

"I expect we'll see you tomorrow?" Edward said with a friendly smile. Bella smiled as well.

"Probably," Mulder confirmed.

"Then we shall bid you good night. I expect this place is a bit of a vacation for you, excepting the reason for your visit, is it not?"

"Yeah," Scully confirmed. "It's so lovely here."

"Well, I hope you'll take advantage of your opportunities to spend some recreational time together. We're heading home, now."

"Hey! Shouldn't you stay out of the forest, too?" Mulder wondered.

"Oh, our car is parked that way, about a quarter mile back, and we have a bear horn," Edward waved vaguely. "Goodnight Agent Mulder, Agent Scully."

"Goodnight," they chorused.

The young people waved, turned and walked off, Bella's hand tucked into Edward's arm.

"Cute, aren't they?" Scully remarked.

"Yeah. What's choro... choro..." Mulder wondered, wincing.

"You're gonna love this," Scully said wryly.

"Lay it on me, Scully."

"Vampirism."

"What?" Mulder yelped incredulously.

A low, musical chuckle and a high, bell-like one drifted back to them.

"Well, it's not, really. It's one of eight conditions, very rare, that are a subgroup of the condition called Porphyria. It gave rise to the legend of vampirism."

"Yeah, I've heard of that one, but tell me more," Mulder demanded as they walked back toward the cabin. Queequag started to pant. He had had enough of walking. Scully picked him up and tucked him under her arm.

"You and I already know it's not just a legend. We settled that in Cheney. So the Cullens really are vampires. I told you so," Mulder crowed.

"Mulder, don't be ridiculous. They aren't immortals. These poor people suffer from a condition so rare that nobody is ever going to put out enough money to cure it. It's a difficult thing to live with, and that young man is right: They're very lucky to live with a doctor who's a specialist in the field. There's the simple reason for you as to why Carlisle Cullen adopted three adolescents, and fostered two more, when he's young, himself.

"Hereditary Coproprophyria is the autosomal dominant form of Hepatic Porphyria. Symptoms can include light sensitivity, in which the skin can blister and burn terribly when exposed to sunlight. Sometimes the urine turns purple or orange , especially if the sufferer has been standing out in the sun. Abdominal pain, which can be severe enough to require hospitalization, is the most common symptom. Then, there's nausea, vomiting, pain in the back, arms and legs, urinary retention and constipation, heart palpitations, increased blood pressure... oh, and there can also be muscle weakness due to damage to the nerves supplying the muscles. In some cases, flare-ups even lead to confusion, hallucinations, and seizures."

"How the hell do you remember all that stuff?"

Dana looked at him wryly. "I work with you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You see fantastical creatures everywhere. Therefore, I have accumulated knowledge about all kinds of rare conditions that can be mistaken for supernatural manifestations."

"So you're telling me the Cullens have orange or purple pee. Wow. You never see that happen to Dracula in the movies," Mulder stated.

"Mulder! It's a serious condition," Scully protested. "It's heritable, and according to him, it's contagious. I wonder what he meant by 'to his mate'. Perhaps it's transmissible during intercourse."

"He's a vampire Scully. Who refers to their wife as their 'mate'? And did you get a load outta how he talks? He sounds like my grandfather," Mulder enthused.

"Mulder," she said with an eye roll.

"Honestly. They're the Addams Family." They paused outside their cabin door. "Look, Scully. I am going to have a question for Carlisle Cullen tomorrow," Mulder claimed.

"And what might that be?" Scully asked warily. "You're not going to accuse him and his family of being vampires, are you?"

"Of course not. What I want to know is, if they have this choro... choro..."

"Coproprophyria," Scully supplied.

"Yeah. That. If they have it, and it's referred to as 'vampirism', how come nobody has mentioned it during the investigation so far? The victims have bite marks on them, Scully. And they're so blood-free that if I didn't know better, I'd say somebody took mortician's equipment and drained them."

Scully's brow raised momentarily. "That would be a much more logical explanation than vampires, Mulder."

"Doesn't explain the teeth marks, Scully."

"If someone were trying to make the Cullens look like vampires, though, they would make teeth marks."

"Not logical. They would make fang marks. These are obviously normal human teethmarks. I wonder who the hell would actually bite a corpse to draw attention to vampires. At any rate, I would say that Carlisle Cullen is definitely the target of these killings."

"I would agree with that assessment, Mulder."

Away from the forest, the stars were bright and the night serene. It was heaven, walking together arm-in-arm, Mulder decided. He wondered if there would be a fireworks show somewhere in the area. Not worth suggesting it. Too late to start out. Oh, well. Maybe it wouldn't be wise to go to such a romantic event together. But his mind kept setting up scenarios in which he could kiss Dana's delectable mouth.

Mulder opened the door and ushered Scully inside. Before long, they were back in their jammies and lounging in front of the TV, with Queequay curled up on Mulder's knee. They chatted about the movie they had watched, and about the people they had met since arriving, and about vampire legends. And thanks to jet lag, Dana fell asleep with her head on her partner's shoulder.

Mulder watched her sleep, her face mere inches from his own. He thought about kissing her, and then realized that he wouldn't know what to do if she woke up. Finally, after some consideration, he pulled her gently down on top of him on the couch, disturbing Queequag, who snarled. Dana's hair, silky against his lips, spilled over his black shirt, and trailed over the sofa's edge into space. Admiring it, Mulder went to the best sleep he had had, in more than seven years.

Outside the cabin, Jasper Hale smiled gently. He put his hands in his pockets, and walked away into the forest.