From netnews.upenn.edu!msunews!agate!uclink.berkeley.edu!madge Fri Feb  3 17:08:33 1995 
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From: madge@uclink.berkeley.edu (Peggy Mei-Ling Li) 
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative 
Subject: DANA (3/3) 
Date: 3 Feb 1995 07:18:03 GMT 
Organization: University of California, Berkeley 
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DANA - Part III  by Peggy Li, Feb. 2, 1995 
 
	Together Scully and I held Melissa,  
brushing away her tangled mess of hair and  
clothes.  She was dressed in a long flowing  
caftan, a flowered print filled with reds and  
yellows.  Her red hair hung freely, but Dana  
found a butterfly hair-clip on the floor and  
gathered it up in that. 
	"Opium,"  I said, peering into Melissa's  
dilated eyes, big as saucers.  Scully simply  
nodded, holding her sister's wrist to check  
her pulse. 
	"Her breathing is shallow.  I don't know  
how we can bring her around." 
	"Do what you can," I said, stepping to  
the door to check the hallway.  For the  
moment, everything looked quiet. 
	"Stupid!"  Dana blurted, cradling her  
sister in her arms. "We should have called  
the police and had them pick Drake up at the  
docks." 
	"No,"  I said, crouching by her side.   
"The police would've taken all night to sweep  
the docks, looking for him.  Drake, knowing  
that his game was up, would've come straight  
back and killed your sister."  A tear rolled  
out of the corner of Dana's eye and she wiped  
it away angrily.  "Look," I said, placing a  
hand on her arm, "Drake thinks we're at the  
bottom of the bay.  We can get her out of  
here, now..." 
	Voices coming from the hallway made me  
cut off my speech.  Scully's eyes widened and  
she began struggling with her sister's dead  
weight. 
	"Help me," she pleaded, trying to pull  
Melissa to her feet. 
	"No."  I wrenched Melissa out of  
Scully's hands and placed her back on the  
floor where we found her.  "There's no way we  
can get past all of them!"  Scully opened her  
mouth to protest and I slapped mine over it,  
yanking her with me to concealment behind the  
curtain. 
	No sooner had the curtains stopped  
swaying when the door opened and Vince Drake  
and two of his goons walked in. 
	"Hurry up,"  Drake commanded, while  
through a seam in the curtain two eyes  
peered.  The henchman picked Melissa's  
unconscious body up like she was a rag doll  
and carried her out of the room.  With a  
sweep of his overcoat, Drake exited also,  
closing the door shut behind him. 
	Scully was trembling with fury.  "We've  
got to go after them!" she hissed, her eyes  
gray flints.  She wasn't going to have any  
argument from me.  I opened the door a crack  
and peered down the hallway.  They had  
disappeared! 
	We raced into the corridor, checking the  
dressing rooms and finding no one. 
	"They couldn't have moved so quickly,"   
Scully said, checking around the stage  
curtains.  I nodded and she pointed to some  
seams at the base of the stage. 
	"Trap door," I said, stating the  
obvious.  Dana pulled her weapon from her  
pocket. 
 
	We had settled into a familiar pattern;   
I would stick my head around a turn, and if  
it didn't get shot off, Scully would jump  
into the corridor, weapon at the ready.   
After repeating this process a few times,  
following flickering electric lights wired  
along the ceiling of the narrow passageway,  
we finally came to a wider portion of the  
tunnel.  Steps led downwards, framed by an  
eerie red light. The sounds of chanting  
wafted to our ears and I could smell incense. 
	Peering carefully down at the scene  
below, I figured we must be under the theater  
that stood across the street from the Orchid.   
A circular room had been carved out at the  
bottom of the steps.  The floor was piled  
high with crates of what I surmised was  
illegal booze.  Drake's men continued to  
bring in more crates from an entrance at the  
other end of the room;  spoils from their  
latest shipment. 
	In the middle of the room sat an altar  
of sorts- a king's throne, evidently an old  
prop no longer regal enough for the stage.   
Melissa Scully sat in it, still in her drug- 
induced stupor.   
	"Where's Drake?"  Scully whispered near  
my shoulder.  I held up my hand and saw that  
the last of the crates had been stacked and  
Drake's men were leaving.   
	Drake himself emerged from behind a tall  
column of wooden boxes, dressed splendidly in  
long flowing robes.  He stood like a huge  
painting come to life and, god-like, flicked  
his wrist to command the room to empty.  The  
chanting continued, however;  I strained my  
neck to see where the other cult members were  
placed. 
	"Look..."  Dana touched my elbow and we  
watched as Drake pulled a long fat bottle  
from the depths of one of his sleeves.  It  
was square and of good size;  it glowed amber  
in the dim red lights.  Something was  
immersed inside it, something fairly large. 
	Scully was already on her way down the  
steps, pressing her body flat against the  
side of the passage.  I hurried, joining her  
behind a stack of crates that gave us a  
limited view of the throne and Melissa. 
	"Okay, it's only him,"  Scully murmured,  
"you go around..." 
	"Wait," I insisted, "let's see what he's  
going to do."  I had to see;  I had to know  
what was in that bottle. 
	"Are you crazy?!"  Scully spat.  Before  
I could stop her, she had stepped out from  
behind our cover. 
	"Drop it, Drake.  You step away from  
her."  Drake took one look at Dana and the  
gun she held steadily in her hand, and wisely  
froze in his tracks.  I moved swiftly from my  
position and scooped up the bottle, tucking  
it under my jacket.  Then I scooped up  
Melissa, who groaned softly. 
	"What do you think you were doing with  
her?"  I asked as the woman snuggled up to my  
shoulder. 
	"Nothing, absolutely nothing.  Just  
having a little party, is all."  Drake's  
black eyes burnt darkly, "You better give  
back that bottle." 
	"You've got plenty around," I replied,  
gesturing to the surrounding crates.  Scully  
and I began moving towards the exit that led  
back to the club.  I heard a crash behind me  
and turned to see Scully knocking over a  
phonograph- the chanting ceased. 
	"Who are you?"  I asked, genuinely  
curious. 
	A broad smile spread across Drake's  
face.  "Don't you know, gumshoe?  I'm the  
taker of little girls."  Drake broke down  
into deep rolls of laughter and I felt my  
features become stiff and still.  My hand  
went for my gun...and then Scully was at my  
elbow, shaking her head. 
	"Let's go," she said simply, glancing  
from me to Drake, who had collapsed onto the  
chair, still quivering with laughter. 
	"Yeah,"  I replied, using both hands to  
get a firmer grip on Melissa.   
	 
	We emerged from the trapdoor, Scully  
helping me lift Melissa through the narrow  
opening when the whole building trembled.  A  
blast of hot air threw me off my feet and I  
landed, hard, against the wall opposite. 
	"My god,"  Scully said, supporting her  
sister as best she could, "I think he's set  
fire to the club." 
	I didn't like the sound of that.  I  
picked up Melissa like a sack of potatoes and  
we jumped through the curtains and onto the  
Orchid club's stage.	All eyes turned  
towards us;  most of them were Drake's men. 
	"FIRE!" I bellowed at the top of my  
lungs.  Thus began the frenzied dash to the  
exits.  No one molested Scully and myself,  
and after getting poked and jabbed and  
pushed, we finally made our way onto the  
street.  Already the theater across the  
street was up in flames.  In the distance,  
the wail of sirens could be heard. 
	"Here, bring her over here,"  Scully  
directed, and I deposited my load onto a bus  
stop bench.  I let Dana tend to her sister as  
I grabbed at the nearest arriving fireman. 
	"I have a woman who needs medical  
attention," I informed him, and he nodded and  
pointed to more oncoming vehicles.  I touched  
Scully's shoulder and asked, 
	"How is she?" 
	Scully wiped the sweat from her eyes and  
smiled.  "She'll be all right.  It'll take a  
few days for the drugs to completely leave  
her system."  Wearily, I parked my behind on  
the bench beside Scully and took my first  
good look at Melissa. 
	She wore that wild get-up, her eyes were  
glassy from the dope, and from her ears hung  
dangley beaded earrings.  I looked from  
Melissa to Dana and concluded that they were  
nothing alike. 
	"What?"  Dana asked, feeling my eyes  
upon her. 
	"I think it's time we informed the  
proper authorities," I replied after a beat. 
	"I am the proper authorities," she  
stated simply, pushing the hair out of her  
green eyes. 
	"Excuse me?"  I said, puzzled.  Just  
then, Police Chief Simmons stepped up to us,  
another man in a dark suit and tie at his  
elbow.  The suited man spoke first. 
	"Agent Scully?  I thought I ordered you  
off this case!" 
	Scully got to her feet, her spine  
straight.  "Yes sir, you did.  But you knew  
this was personal..." 
	"I know, agent," the man said, coldly.   
"We had discussed your options," he turned  
his gaze upon me for a moment, "and I forbade  
you to do this." 
	Ambulance attendants swept around our  
little gathering and scooped Melissa onto  
their stretcher.  Scully squeezed her  
sister's hand as she was carried by, and then  
turned again to her superior.  "I had too,  
sir."  Her eyes were steely, never wavering  
from the man's face.  His stance relented,  
just a fraction. 
	"Will she be all right?"  he asked.   
Scully's shoulders lost their tenseness.   
	"Yes, she'll be fine." 
	Simmons cleared his throat and addressed  
the both of us.  "Now, about what happened  
here tonight..." 
	"Save it, Simmons."  I put my hand on  
Scully's back, "I'll get back to you in the  
morning.  Right now I need a drink." 
	Dana and I had taken a few strides away  
from the bench when a voice called after us: 
	"Speaking of drinks...did either of you  
take anything from Drake?  Anything at all?" 
	"No,"  Scully said truthfully, turning. 
	"Sorry," I lied.  "Drake torched the  
place himself.  I guess his business will die  
with him."  The man in the suit nodded,  
biting his lower lip, but saying nothing.  I  
hailed a taxi and Scully and I stepped  
inside.  The air was filling with smoke as  
the fire trucks fought the three-alarm blaze-  
I was very happy leave that place. 
 
	The first thing Scully did when we  
reached my office was pick up the telephone.   
She called her parents, informing them of  
Melissa's condition and promising them she'd  
meet them at the hospital.  I had moved  
around my desk and plopped into my chair, the  
bottle I still had in my jacket pocket  
banging against my ribs.  Scully placed the  
receiver back in the cradle and sat on my  
desk with a sigh. 
	"So," I began, "care to fill me in?" 
	Scully's lips puckered into a half- 
frown, half-smile, and she shook her head  
slowly. 
	"You know, we could use a man like you,"  
she said finally. 
	"Who's we?" 
	"The FBI- Frapp Brothers  
Investigations." 
	The Frapp brothers;  I had heard of  
them.  Their means of investigation were  
almost legendary- they commanded a vast  
underground network of informants and were  
rumored to have files on everything  
imaginable.  And I had a pretty good  
imagination. 
	"Really?" was all I said. 
	"Really,"  Dana leaned over and I  
noticed that her eyes had changed color yet  
again- this time they were a deep, fathomless  
blue.  I was transfixed.  Her face loomed  
closer to mine...  
	Our lips met and that was a whole new  
sensory overload.  I'd never felt so alive in  
my life.  I could feel her smile underneath  
my mouth and that smile remained on her face  
when we parted. 
	"Maybe," I murmured. 
	"Beast," she said, fingering the  
nameplate that remained face-down where I had  
left it.  Her hand moved to turn it over and  
I didn't feel compelled this time to stop  
her.  "Fox Mulder," she whispered, rolling  
the name around in her mouth like she liked  
the taste of it.  "I want to thank you,  
Mul..." 
	I pressed my mouth against hers, a quick  
kiss.  She laughed softly and stroked my  
hair. 
	"Hey," she said, looking down at me,  
"what do you have in your pocket?" 
	I remembered the bottle, and pulled it  
out, turning it into the light. 
	"I remember," Dana said, "Drake had  
that.  I thought it was tequila..."  As we  
stared at the bottle, both of us knew it  
wasn't tequila.   
	Floating inside the alcohol was a  
creature the size of a large fist- it was  
like a baby, except with slits for eyes.  I  
drew in a sharp breath and Scully looked at  
me, concerned. 
	"Mulder...it looks like a fetus, but..."  
she took the bottle from my hand.  "Mulder,  
what is it?  Mulder?" 
 
	"Mulder, wake up.  Mulder!" 
	Special agent Fox Mulder waved his hands  
across his face.  "Wha?"  He was lying on his  
couch, the light of dawn streaming in through  
the blinds.  The television was on, as  
always, and the black and white movie that  
was playing was nearing the end.  Mulder  
focused on the crackling dialogue: 
	 
	"Sam, what is it?"  Humphrey Bogart  
turned, cradling the dark object in his hands  
and said in his famous drawl the last line of  
The Maltese Falcon,   
	"It's the stuff...dreams are made of." 
 
	"The stuff dreams are made of,"  Mulder  
murmured.  The television turned off with a  
snap, and Mulder looked up to see Dana Scully  
with the remote in her hand. 
	"Hey, you called me out here at five in  
the morning and I find you asleep." 
	He struggled to sit up, pushing the case  
files that blanketed him onto the coffee  
table.  "Oh!  Scully...I'm sorry.  I must  
have dozed off...I was dreaming." 
	Dana folded her arms in annoyance but a  
smile was already finding its way to her  
lips.  "That's okay.  Come on, I'll buy you  
breakfast." 
	"Great."  Mulder hauled himself off his  
couch, rubbing his eyes and stretching. 
	"You know,"  Scully said, regarding him  
with a clinical eye, "you oughta stop  
watching so much late-night TV.  How can you  
sleep?" 
	"Scully..."  Mulder began, taking her by  
the elbow, "you may be right." 
 
the end. 
 
