From: Mistress V To: Subject: GLADES Date: Monday, March 12, 2001 9:35 PM Hi everyone. This is the third in my trio of MSR. So, first of all, the usual. Legalease, boilerplate, disclaimer. I own none, I don;t intend to infringe. Period! This is adult fiction---so if you do not qualify or are offended, please exit the ride now. Do not pass Go. Thank you. Glades could stand alone, but it follows on from Be Mine and Two Hearts. There REALLY is something afoot in Africa and Indonesia, I read about it in one of the scandal sheets, so got inspired. The Seminole reservation I mention is fictional, but the Seminole nation does have several in Florida, and does run fish/turtle farms. I do not mean to offend any of the real or fictional government agencies I mention. And special thanks to S.A .JC from the DOT! (he knows who he is) for inspiration. So---enjoy. NO spoilers. This is just MSR, mostly adventure, some smut at the end. If you are anti romance, or into angst, sorry. I stick to what I do best, humor and light porn. Premise: An X File in Florida! Will it cement M and S's newfound love-- -or sink it without a trace? GLADES by Mistress V "And way down South in the Everglades, where the black water rolls and the salt grass waves, The eagles fly and the otters play, in the land of the Seminole..." Seminole Wind by John Anderson (one of my faves!) Dana Scully flinched as she realized another mosquito had decided she was this evening's cocktail bar. Her partner paused to slide an arm around her, briefly, professionally. "OK?" It was a stage whisper, for the benefit of the other parties in the open-sided vehicle, but his tongue managed to caress her earlobe for a microsecond while his fingers brushed the front of her "mosquito proof" shirt. She felt a warm flush of pleasure at the contact, which quickly spread to the juncture at her thighs. Oh god, the man was capable of sending her into orgasm just with his touch. "Yeah," she whispered back, then hissed angrily, "Damn SKEETERS! What time is it, already?" "3:15." A second voice joined the conversation, which belonged to Chris Osceola, their native guide in this adventure. "Yeah! How long are we gonna sit here on this wild goose chase? My ass is asleep!" Special Agent Rocco Salvucci, Department of the Treasury, contributed to the discussion. He wore an agitated expression as he slapped at his backside. "SHHHHH!" Osceola's voice was a thunderous whisper. Scully glanced at the rogue's gallery which accompanied her in the swamp buggy. A real testosterone assortment, she thought wryly, even as she snuggled into Mulder's comfortable side. What was she doing here? She asked herself as yet another mosquito began to feast on her sanguine essence. ****** They had just spent a wonderful three days---on assignment, at least officially---in Salem, MA. Despite a blizzard, rumored ghosts and a power failure, she and Mulder had finally managed to cross the line from partners and friends to lovers. The prospect of a follow on trip to Florida had seemed innocent, even pleasurable, after freezing together. But it had gone wrong from the beginning. Mulder's prediction that Logan Airport would be backed up through summer had proved overly optimistic. They'd finally gotten out on a 1 am flight. To say they had experienced turbulence would be the most gross misrepresentation of fact imaginable. Neither of them had slept, and their moods were foul. The flight, if you could call a bucking bronco ride a flight, had put them into Ft. Meyers just after 6 am. The change in climate was a shock too. The humidity blasted them full on, like being licked by a huge, slobbering dog, and their winter attire turned the greeting into a curse quickly. There was an added mixup at the car rental desk which had left Mulder fuming---he had had to use his personal credit card for the rental vehicle. An SUV no less, which came with a hefty price tag. As Skinner had informed them, yes, there were stores, so they were able to get appropriate weight clothing, but the previously romantic and friendly dynamic between the two agents had been stretched as tightly as a violin string---one about to pop. Neither of them had alluded to the previous days' romantic encounter, had not since they arrived at Logan and had seen the massive hordes waiting for flights. It was as though the magic they had shared just vaporized right then and there, which made Scully hurt with a pain that was indescribable. It had just, she finally admitted to herself somewhere over Jacksonville, been one of those things. Period. Mulder's eyes, hidden behind heavy duty Ray Bans, told her nothing as they began their drive to the Cypress Flats Seminole Reservation. The miles passed in silence, punctuated by Mulder's vain attempts to tune the car stereo to anything other than the twangy country stations that seemed endemic to the area. Scully reviewed the files that they had picked up at the airport. She sighed. Another monster-attacks- animals-with-witnesses folly. Mulder had dragged her down here to chase a rogue crocodile...or was it an alligator in these parts? "Scully?" Mulder's voice had cut into her speculations, and when she looked up, she was amazed to find he'd parked at a shaded rest stop. He unbuckled his seat belt, reached over to undo hers, then negotiated his way to her side of the vehicle. Before she knew what was happening, he'd maneuvered himself into the seat and she was astride him, face to face, eye to eye (he'd managed to lose the Ray Bans). "Dana?" he whispered as his fingers traced the outline of her mouth. "I love you. Still. Is that OK?" And then his lips touched hers and they melted into one another, all the tension dissolving in that most simple, primal of moments. There was no need for further words. Their clothes slipped off, the seat pushed itself flat, and suddenly, they were making love so passionately the SUV must surely have been rocking on its axles. If there had been any doubts in Scully's mind about Mulder's feelings about her, about them, well, they were blasted to smithereens in the intensity of their mutual orgasm. Eventually, they found their way back onto the highway once more, and headed towards Cypress Flats. Tribal Council Member Chris Osceola had met them at the gate, a worried frown creasing his brow. "We've got a huge mess on our hands," he informed the agents as they headed to the council offices. "and it happened right when every Fed and his brother was here, so we have quite a party going." They reviewed the scant facts. Someone, or something, had torn an eight foot hole in the fence surrounding the tribe's catfish farm, which Osceola supervised. Whatever it was had eaten the heads---and only the heads--- of scores of fish. No one had seen anything concrete, but some local boys, who'd been catching nightcrawlers at the time, had sworn it was something nasty...and huge. The fish farm, a joint effort of the Seminole Nation and the state of Florida, was overseen by the Bureau of Fish and Game, so Special Agent Tom O'Sullivan had made the preliminary investigation. He had been the one to call Skinner. "This is devastating," Osceola admitted. "Half our breeding stock is gone, and our crop's nearly been wiped out. AND whatever's out there came back last night, but we think we scared it off. But for how long?" "Are you sure it's just not a croc--er, alligator?" Scully asked, then shut up as the door swung open, revealing a gaggle of Fed types. "Agents Scully, Mulder," Osceola said, "May I present..." "Tom O' Sullivan, Fish and Game." "Louis Two Peaks, Native Affairs." "Rocco Salvucci, Department of the Treasury." "Bass Lopez, DEA." Even Mulder was taken aback by the assembled firepower. "How did all of us end up here?" he asked rhetorically. "Louis and I were already here," Salvucci offered. "They're excavating an old village, to make into an historical display, and found a cache of doubloons from around Ponce de Leon's time. So, naturally, both of us got called in to supervise." "We were spending the night in one of the native chickee shelters, and were up late, you know, yakking around the fire," Two Peaks added. "And Chris got the call on his radio, so we all headed over to the fishery. It was awful, man." "And then they called me," O'Sullivan interjected. "And I called your boss." "O.K.," Mulder admitted. He turned to Lopez. "I buy that. But what the hell is DEA doing here? Filming something?" This was a humorous reference to Glades DEA, the wildly popular 80s drama. Bass laughed. "Yeah, go ahead, just because your claim to fame is that awful cannibal movie. Look, we know the swamps as good as anyone, so I figured if this was some kind of diversion, you know, so a shipment comes in while we're hauling dead fish around, we should be here too." Osceola snorted. "You're just here for the beer," he said. Then he smiled. "Bass and I go way back, to high school. So I called him in for the fun, figured the more the better." ***** They'd managed to catch a few hours' sleep---separately. Osceola had billeted Mulder at his home, while Scully got the guest quarters at the local clinic, where she'd met Dr. Janice Enfield, the tribe's medical officer. After a brief rest, she and Enfield had toured the facility. Scully was impressed with the facility as well as the staff. Mulder, who'd been interviewing some locals, caught up with her later. "I think we have something unknown," he announced dramatically. "C'mon, Mulder, this is the Everglades. We're probably dealing with an overgrown alligator who has an eating disorder." Scully sighed. Only her partner could find an X file here. Mulder shook his head adamantly. "Scully," he said firmly, "I've been talking to some of the older tribesfolk. And there's this legend..." Scully resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. "Of this reptile thing!" Mulder continued. "There's no word for it, it's so ancient. The locals don't even name it for fear it will appear. Anyway, it eats...BRAINS!" Scully put her head in her hands and hrrmphed. "Scully?" "I'm listening," she muttered into her palms. "I've done some checking, Scully. There are similar reports of creatures like this in Africa. It's called Malambo there, and it's blamed for dozens of mutilation deaths every year. Same M.O. It eats only the brain of the victim," Mulder finished with a satisfied smirk. "Hold on, Mulder," Scully countered. "If this thing even exists, how did it get here from Africa? Hitch a ride on a tramp steamer?" Mulder went on, undaunted. "Scully, you know as well as I do that the oceans circle the earth. Some of those subterranean trenches are so deep that no one knows what lives there. Creatures exist that no one has ever photographed, but that doesn't make them any less alive! Who cares how it got here? It's here." "Come on, Mulder. Next you'll be telling me stories of the Congo brontosaurus or the Mongolian death worm." Subject closed. Fortunately, a dinner briefing stopped the argument. Osceola outlined the plan. They would stake out the marshes near the fish farm...and wait. No one was willing to hazard a guess as to just what for, however. ***** So here they were. Mosquito bait. Scully shivered, despite the warm night. Mulder surreptitiously managed a caress of her waist...and her inner thigh. "I give up," Lopez muttered. "Not even the Colombians would take this long. Ain't nothin' here but snapping turtles. Let's go back." At that moment, an other-worldly roar split the humid air. Everyone looked at each other and simultaneously drew their weapons. "What the hell was that?" Salvucci asked for all of them. "Osceola shrugged. "No gator I ever heard," he began. "Look!" gasped O' Sullivan. "Over there!" To the left of the vehicle, about 20 yards away, the murky water of the swamp began to churn. Seven pairs of eyes stared, as one, at the moonlit action. Seven weapons were at the ready. Even Scully, who'd been expecting to see a gator, sucked in her breath. "Oh, god," she breathed. A reptilian creature was slowly emerging from the muddy water, but this reptile had never made it into the textbooks. Its body, supported by short, stubby legs, measured about 15 feet in length. Not counting its tail, which was lashing the water furiously. Or its snakelike neck, which extended another five feet. The head was indeed like a snake, but much larger, and its mouth opened to reveal double rows of piranha-like teeth. "SHIT!" yelled Two Peaks. "What the HELL is that?" At the sound, the creature turned its head in their direction. It slowly began moving towards the swamp buggy. Its eyes stared right at them, marking its prey. Every step sent tremors through the mud, causing the vehicle to shake dangerously. "OPEN FIRE!" yelled Osceola, and seven weapons attempted to find their mark. The creature howled its rage, slapping its tail in the water. Waves slammed into the vehicle, and it started listing precariously towards a dangerous angle. Scully grabbed at the rollbar as she felt herself began sliding towards the muddy water. "Mulder," she gasped, "help!" At that moment, another thwack of the reptile thing's tail caused the vehicle to lurch a further 15 degrees. Scully looked up to see Mulder diving towards her, falling forward over her, smacking his head on the rollbar. His arm managed to grab her tightly. Then there was just blackness. ***** Scully woke up in the clinic the next afternoon, as a patient. Janice Enfield smiled down at her. "You're fine," she assured Scully as she tried to get up. Her body did not want to cooperate, however. "What happened?" Scully finally managed to say. Enfield sat at the end of the bed. "When your--er--partner slammed into the rollbar, he manage to knock you against the seat. Both of you took knocks to the head, but nothing too serious. His is a bit worse than yours, though. "Mulder---where is he?" Scully felt panic wash over her. "Asleep in the next room," Enfield said, watching as Scully tried once more to get up. "Better take it easy, Agent. You've got a bump on your own head, too." Scully doggedly ignored her remark and managed to stand. She wobbled into the adjoining room and was relieved to see Mulder sound asleep in the bed. She sighed. Enfield patted her back. "He's got a bruise, but no concussion. Thank god. We'd have had to medivac him out of here. I gave him something to help him sleep, he kept ranting about the brain eater!" Scully closed her eyes, trembling slightly. Yes, they had seen something. But what had they seen? "Chris'll be in to brief you both tomorrow," Enfield went on. "He and the guys went out to Bo's Roadhouse." She grimaced. "To forget what they saw." Sully managed a brief smile. At least Mulder wasn't with them. 5 Feds in a bar? It defied the imagination. "By the way," Enfield continued. "Chris and I have a spot over near Ft. Meyers. Maybe you and Agent Mulder would like to spend a few days there to recover form this all?" "You---and Chris?" Scully didn't understand. "You didn't know we were married?" Enfield looked genuinely surprised. "You are? How do you---" "We work together?" Enfield finished the sentence for her. "Lord knows. The same way you and your partner do, I guess." Scully's cheeks flamed red. "We're not married," she mumbled. Now it was Enfield's turn to be surprised. "Coulda fooled me," she admitted."He worships you, don't you see that? His eyes follow your every move, no matter what he's doing. I think he'd willingly have thrown himself at that creature if it came down to that. When I was sedating him, he kept saying, 'Dana, gotta save her.' That man," she nodded toward the sleeping Mulder, "loves you." "I know," Scully said quietly. Enfield got up to leave, then paused in the doorway. "Have a good night," she said softly. Then she was gone. Scully raised a hand to Mulder's forehead and caressed the angry purple bruise there, then brushed the hair off his brow. He stirred in his sleep. "Dana," he whispered. She climbed into the bed with him and wrapped herself around his slumbering form. ***** "That's IT?" Mulder's voice was incredulous. "An ALLIGATOR?" Osceola nodded. "Who the hell knows? That's what I'm saying. If we tell the truth, every weirdo in the US will be her eon the next plane. We don't need that. Time to re build the farm and get on with our everyday lives. We can't do anything else." He paused. "Look," he said levelly. "Whatever the hell that was sank like a rock. If it survived, I don't think it'll come back anytime soon. And if it does, we'll be ready for it." "Case closed?" Scully asked. "For now," Mulder said sulkily. Osceola moaned slightly just then, causing Scully to smirk. From what Janice Enfield had told her, the boys were indisposed this morning. They'd fallen victim to a bad batch of fried clams. Or so they said. Sick as dogs, every last one of them. Except for she and Mulder. No, they were just fine. Headaches notwithstanding. She caught Mulder's gaze and saw he was also remembering the mind blowing sex they'd had last night. Several times. And this morning. Her thighs started heating up as she remembered her partner's face, alive with passion and desire, as he thrust his final stroke and joined her in blissful release. "Agent Scully?" OOPS. "Well, we'll be submitting our report straightway," she began. "No, I was going to give you this," Osceola said as he handed her a key. "Just leave it at the bait shop when you head back to Ft. Meyers. We'll up next weekend. Have fun!" Mulder eyed her curiously. She got up and started towards the SUV. "C'mon partner, let's get a move on," she admonished. Looking back, she caught Janice's smile and Chris's hungover attempt at one. ***** The afternoon sun was warm, the Gulf's waters delightful against her skin. Scully kicked her flippers behind her and glided through the underwater world surrounding her. Fish swam by, bright splashes of color, almost otherworldly. Eventually, she surfaced and walked onto the sand, losing her snorkeling gear and shaking the last bits of water out of her hair. She glanced at the terrace of the beach house they'd been sharing these past two days, looking for Mulder. No sign of him. Oh well, maybe he'd had enough sun for the day. A pair of familiar, strong arms encircled her just then. "Hi," a voice said in her ear. "Mmmm. Hi," she answered, leaning back against him happily, reveling in the proof of his arousal pressed into her rear. She wiggled her hips suggestively. Mulder turned her around, his eyes dark with desire. "Remember what I said back in Salem?" he asked huskily as he untied the top of her bathing suit. She gasped when his lips closed over her breast, then sighed his name. "Yes, Mulder," she whispered. "I do." He sat down on the damp sand, taking her right along with him, pausing only to untie her bikini bottom. His hands found her hips and he sat her firmly down on his mouth. In broad daylight, like he'd promised. And she shouted his name into the balmy air as she writhed on his tongue. And again as he lowered her onto his ramrod stiff cock, loving how he thrust up into her. Oh yes, she decided, this had turned out to be a great road trip after all. Comments welcome, flames doused. :-)