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Ancient Dreams an X- Files eroticon 1/5
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated!
WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated!
The story you are about to read contains SEX, written in loving detail.
If that bothers you, either do NOT read this story, or get someone who
doesn't mind erotica to black out all the juicy parts for you before you
read it. If you're underage, get your parent's permission to read it.
Don't flame me if you're silly enough to go ahead and read it after I
warned you, and then get offended by it. --kms
This story copyright 1994 by the author. Permission to distribute freely
is given, provided you do not attempt to sell it. The X-Files is a
trademark of Fox Television, characters not used by permission.
Okay, now that all the official stuff is out of the way, let me make a
brief comment. This story is a companion piece to "Gemma" and was written
to appease all the GATB-er's who kept writing me to complain that Scully
didn't "get any" in "Gemma." :-) It does NOT feature any romantic stuff
between Our Heroes, but gives Dana a shot at someone completely different.
And, as usual in my work, though it is erotica, it also has a plot.
Enjoy.
Kellie Matthews-Simmons//[email protected]
Member: SFLA&EBS, PSEB, DDEB, X-phile "Ego veno eos in vulcos minos."
"Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of
humiliation." --Fox Mulder, X-Files "Squeeze"
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Ancient Dreams, part 1.
Kellie Matthews-Simmons
Dana Scully leaned back in her seat with a sigh, looking out the
window at the tarmac below the plane. God, she really needed this
vacation. It had been a very, very long year. The settlement of her
father's will and his bequest to her had given her the incentive she'd
needed to take a bit of a break. She hadn't realized exactly what she was
getting into when she'd accepted the task of working with Fox Mulder on
the X-Files. It had been a rough year not only physically, but mentally
and emotionally as well. In the end, her belief system had been as
traumatized as her body had been on occasion. She shivered, thinking
about how close she'd come to dying a couple of times. Both Eugene Tooms,
and the damned prehistoric mites had almost gotten her. On top of that
there was the humiliation of the time Mulder had almost had to peel her
off the Kindred guy, Brother Andrew, because she couldn't resist his
pheromones. She still burned with embarrassment whenever she remembered
that incident... Mulder's comment about her "doing the wild thing with a
total stranger" had stung more than it should have, though she knew
objectively he had just been trying to lighten the situation.
Thinking about cases reminded her that she'd meant to tell Mulder
she'd left a new one in his inbox. He would never find it there, since he
only went through it when it started to overflow. There was an airphone
in the seat-back in front of her and she almost reached for it, then sat
back, smiling wryly at herself. She just couldn't seem to leave work
behind! He had enough on his hands, travelling to three states to check
out reports of UFO's sighted around large defense contractor sites, and
wouldn't be back for days. She'd drop him a postcard from the Shannon
airport, he'd get it when he got back... provided the Irish postal service
was at all reliable.
She opened her book, a murder mystery, then closed it again. Just
what she needed, more mystery! She should have taken that trashy romance
Karen had offered her, that would have been better vacation fare. The
only thing that had stopped her was that the last thing she needed was to
feel any more frustrated than she already did. That was the other
drawback to working with Mulder; she was attracted to him. She knew
better, of course. He was maddeningly stubborn, annoyingly focused, and
emotionally a mess, yet despite all that she found herself not only
admiring him, but liking him as well. That was something she just
couldn't afford. She had to work with him, and any hint of her attraction
would make that impossible.
Slightly raised voices told her there was some kind of problem
three rows up from her own. A man and a woman were standing in the aisle
with a flight attendant who was looking at tickets and seeming flustered.
Scully eavesdropped unabashedly, and after a moment realized that as often
happened, there had been a mixup in seat assignments. One of the people
in the seats, and one of the people standing had the same assigned seat.
The attendant had her seating chart out and was studying it, then she
pointed, at the empty seat next to Scully. Dana sighed. So much for the
unaccustomed luxury of flying with an empty seat beside her. She'd known
it was too good to last. She pretended not to have noticed the commotion,
as the attendant led someone toward the seat.
"Here you are, sir. I'm so sorry about the misunderstanding. I hope
this will work for you."
"I'm sure it'll be fine," he said, softly, in a tantalizingly
accented voice. "Would you look after my sister? Let me know if she
needs aught?"
Aught? How odd... Scully looked up to see the man staring toward
his traveling companion with a look of concern. Now that her view was
unobstructed, she could see that the woman removing her coat before
sitting down was quite noticeably pregnant. She was startled to realize
that except for what looked to be a ten-year difference in age, the man
and woman could be twins. Both had hair of an unusual dark auburn, and
deep-set eyes under sharply winged brows. They were both strikingly
attractive. Neither would have looked out of place on the cover of a
fashion magazine.
"Should she be really be traveling in her condition? It's a long
flight..." the attendant looked worriedly from the man to the woman, who
had seated herself.
The man chuckled. "She's not sick, just with child. She'll be
fine, if a tad uncomfortable," the man reassured the attendant as he
removed his calf-length coat and folded it before placing it in the
overhead compartment. Dana caught a glimpse of the label and her eyebrows
lifted: cashmere. It had probably cost him the equivalent of a month of
her salary. She noticed with irritation that the compartment was an easy
reach for him. She always had trouble getting her things into an
overhead... unless she was traveling with Mulder and could make him do it
for her. She didn't *feel* short, it always surprised her that she was.
"You're sure she'll be all right? Her physician said she could
travel?" The flight attendant, her name-tag said Johnston, was still
worried. She looked young, and was probably new at her job.
"Aye, she just needs to get home," the man took the attendant's
hand and looked into her eyes. "She'll be fine, believe me," his voice
was low and husky.
Dana suppressed the urge to snicker as Ms. Johnston swayed toward
him. Dana was sure he was very charismatic, but the woman didn't have to
be so *obvious* about her attraction.
"Of course she will," the young woman repeated, a bit dreamily.
"Go on now, and see to the others."
He let go of her hand. She stared at it for a moment, blinked,
then an embarrassed blush spread over her face. "I'll... I'll just go
start the final flight check now," she said, hurrying toward the galley.
The man closed the overhead compartment and sat down next to
Scully, trying to wedge his knees into the meager space between their bank
of seats and the next. His arm brushed hers as he attempted to get
comfortable in a seat made for someone more her size than his. She
noticed that the fabric of his shirt had the rich gleam of silk, and he
wore a massive gold Celtic interlace ring on the forefinger of his left
hand. That was unusual, most men wore rings only on their ring fingers,
or pinkies. His elbow nudged her, and she shifted aside to try to give
him a little more room.
"Sorry," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean to disturb you."
Dana looked him full in the face for the first time, and suddenly
understood Ms. Johnston's reaction. Her earlier assessment of him as
striking was wrong, gleaned only from brief glances. Seen this close, he
was one of the most attractive men she'd ever seen. He reminded her
vaguely of someone, but she couldn't put her finger on who. He had broad,
prominent cheekbones, a very straight, slightly blunt-tipped nose; his
mouth was full-cut and sensual. But it was his eyes that were
mesmerizing... a luminous, leafy green, fringed with utterly spectacular
lashes. The slight lines around his eyes and the gentle lift to the
corners of his mouth bespoke humor, and there was something about the
flare of his nostrils that hinted of passions barely held in check.
Caught and held by his gaze, her lips parted on a sigh, then she
remembered herself and broke eye contact.
"Oh, no, it's all right, I understand. It's difficult for someone
of your height to travel coach."
For just a moment he looked puzzled. "Coach? 'Tis no coa... ah,
you mean the seats! Aye, usually we'd be up front, but t'was booked and
we had to be on the flight. Eithne has to get home soon, the child must
be born there," his gaze left her face, and his brows drew down in
concern as he looked over the seat toward where his sister sat.
"If it would set your mind at ease at all, I am a doctor. If
there's any problem I should be able to help."
His turned back to her, looking surprised. "You're a doctor?"
Dana bristled a bit... she got awfully tired of that reaction.
"Yes, I am. Why are you surprised?"
"I thought... I... it seemed you..." he broke off, shaking his
head with a rueful smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend. I'd thought
you were in law enforcement of some kind."
It was Scully's turn to be surprised, or rather shocked. "How did
you know that?" she demanded.
He looked a bit smug. "Then you are? I thought so."
"But... how did you know?"
He smiled and winked. "'Tis a talent of mine, being able to guess
professions. A party trick of sorts. So, how does a doctor come to be in
law enforcement?"
"I do forensic and other work for the F.B.I., and I'd still like to
know how you knew!"
He shook his head, grinning. "Ah, that'd be giving away my secret,
now wouldn't it? A man has to have some mystery."
It was obvious he wasn't going to tell her. She glanced down to
make sure she didn't still have her ID clipped to her lapel. She didn't.
"It's a good trick," she admitted, giving up. "If you ever feel
like telling me, I'd love to know."
"If I ever feel like telling, you'll be the first, lass."
Dana stiffened, then relaxed, realizing he didn't mean to be
offensive. He probably called all women that. In another context she
might have been irritated by it. Still, he was friendly, easy on the
eyes, and had a delightful voice. She could do worse for a seat-mate.
Their attention was drawn by the captain's voice telling them the flight
was ready to depart. She checked her seat-belt, then noticed that her
companion's belt wasn't fastened.
"You'd better buckle up," she reminded him.
He sighed. "Aye, it must be done," he shifted and fished the ends
of the belt out, holding them by the fabric straps rather than by the
buckles. He looked at the ends for a long moment, then slid his fingers
up to the metal and fastened it in place with a quick snap. As soon as it
clicked into place he yanked his hands away with a deep, shuddering
breath, fingers curled, eyes closed as if in pain. Very odd. She glanced
at his hands, and gasped.
"My god! What did you do to your hands?"
"'Tis nothing, just an... allergy."
"To what? Those blisters look bad!"
He opened his eyes and shook his head. "They'll be gone soon, they
never last long."
"But what caused them?"
"I've a... metal allergy. I should've remembered to bring gloves."
She stared at him, shaking her head. "A _metal_ allergy? I've
never heard of such a thing."
"Sure you have. Lots of people have it... no doubt you've had
friends who could only wear gold or silver earrings?" he touched his left
earlobe, or rather the thin gold ring that pierced it, for emphasis "'Tis
the same, mine's just more severe."
His movement drew her attention to his ears. If she hadn't spent
the last year working on X-Files she probably would never have noticed
them, but she had, and she did. They were *pointed*. Not tremendously,
obviously, Mr. Spock-pointed, but just enough to be unusual. The fact
that the poor light inside the plane gave his skin a faintly greenish cast
that was even more pronounced next to the dark, rich mahogany of his hair
made her notice the points even more. And once she'd noticed, her eyes
were irresistibly drawn to them over and over again, until finally he
caught her staring at him. She lowered her eyes in flustered
embarrassment, but he just smiled.
"'Tis okay, lass, it happens all the time."
The languid lilt of his accent slid over her like silk. Lovely,
though the colloquial American "okay" sounded quite odd said in those
tones.
"Back home they say our family's been touched by the Folk, because
we've all got them. 'Tis a... genetic mutation, a dominant one, or so
they tell me."
"I really didn't mean to stare..." Scully began, but he cut her
off with a wave of his hand.
"I took no offense, I'm used to it. I didn't get to be the great
age I am by taking offense when people look at me. My name's Fionnvarra
MacCumhaill, by the by," he extended his hand.
Finvara McCool? An odd name, that. She didn't see how she could
politely decline, so she reached across and shook his hand. A tingle of
warmth seemed to spread up her arm from where their palms touched.
"I'm Dana Scully," she supplied withdrawing her hand as quickly as
she could without being rude, and wondering what was the matter with
herself.
He studied her a moment, then nodded. "'Tis fitting."
"What is?"
"Your name, Dana. You're named for the Mother, and carry Her
blessing."
"What mother?"
"The Mother, of the Tribes..." he smiled suddenly, and it almost
took her breath away. "You don't have a clue what I'm on about, have
you?"
"I'm afraid not," she admitted.
"Sorry, I sometime forget that there aren't many people who know
the old stories. That's my work, I collect legends and folktales, and
write them down, so they'll not be forgotten completely. The first of The
Blood to take ship to Eire were called the Tuatha de Dannan... the
Children of Dana."
Something stirred in her memory. "Isn't that what the mythical
ancestors of the Irish were called?"
"You've heard of them? Good for you!'
"So you're a folklorist?"
"You could say that."
She smiled. "Well, I'd never have guessed it."
"What would you have said I do?"
She studied him for a moment, and was her usual honest self.
"Well... nothing, to be honest. You look like someone who doesn't have to
work for a living."
He chuckled. "Ah, so I look useless do I? Well, I see I've
competition in the work-guessing field. You have me to rights. I've no
need to work `for a living' as you so aptly put it. What I do, I do
because someone needs to, before humankind flies headlong into the future
and finds they've forgotten all the poetry and magic of the past." His
gaze had grown distant, darkening. "And in that forgetting *we* lose all
that we could be," he said, with peculiar emphasis, leaving Dana at a
loss for words. He was a strange man... compelling, but definitely odd.
He had closed his eyes momentarily, but they opened again as the
plane began to taxi more quickly, picking up speed for the takeoff.
"Damn, I hate this," he said, his hands clenching into fists. She
almost winced, remembering the blisters on his palms. It must hurt.
Suddenly she realized she'd just shaken his hand and felt not trace of
blisters on the smooth, warm skin of his palm. She looked at his hands,
trying to see if she was right, but they were still clenched so she
couldn't tell.
"Takeoffs and landings are always a little scary," she said,
hoping that her commiseration would help.
"Aye," he said grimly, tightlipped.
The engines screamed as they reached maximum acceleration. The
nose of the plane lifted into the air, followed seconds later by the rear
wheels as the plane became airborne. Scully watched the ground receding
and smiled, glad to be on her way. After a moment she turned to her
seatmate and was startled to find him slumped laxly in his seat, eyes
closed, and as pale as cream. Alarmed, Dana reached over and slid her
fingers beneath the hollow of his jaw to find his pulse, and was relieved
to find it strong, if a bit rapid. Suddenly she felt his muscles tense
and his hand covered hers, his long, lean fingers holding her hand against
his throat.
"What do ye, maid... " he began, confusion written plainly on his
face, then he looked around and seemed to shake himself, a flush painting
its way across his cheekbones. "Ah, sorry. As I said, I hate takeoffs."
"Don't feel too bad," Scully sympathized, easing her fingers out
from beneath his, and trying to pretend her own pulse wasn't racing. "A
lot of people are afraid of flying. I hear there are psychologists who
specialize in helping people deal with phobias like that."
He shook his head. "'Tisn't flying I fear, 'tis the damned plane.
So much metal... when I loose all touch with the earth, 'tis overpowering
for a moment. Forgive me if I frightened you."
Dana shook her head, taking refuge in professionalism. "I was just
concerned that you might be ill."
He smiled disarmingly. "And grateful I am for that concern, I hope
Eithne handled that better than I... there's a good chance that the child
will have grounded her."
Scully looked at him askance... what an odd thing to say! He
seemed to realize it, too, for suddenly his gaze fell and he looked
uncomfortable. She opened her book, and they didn't speak for quite
awhile.
####
Fionn sat, as relaxed as he could be when surrounded by the burning
cold of iron, no matter how annealed and alloyed it was. He could feel
every steel part in the engine, every seat-belt, every rivet. He was
surrounded by it. With a shudder he looked toward Eithne, felt her
relaxation, and envied it. Carrying a child gave her human protections,
buffered her from the shrill call of deadly metal. He had worn silk and
wool, both of which helped dampen his sensitivity, but not enough. He
silently cursed his sibling. Eithne had known she could not give birth in
a foreign land, it was not their way, yet she had waited so long to return
home that they had been forced to take human transportation. The child
was too aware at this point to survive the translations of Folk
travelways.
Desperate for a distraction, he turned again to Dana Scully. She
was reading... or at least she wished him to think she was. She hadn't
turned a page in quite some time. The tiny frown between her brows, and
the set of her full mouth told him she was troubled. He leaned back and
closed his eyes, reaching out, trying to ignore the song of iron all
around him, so he could hear her thoughts, thinking that perhaps he could
steer the conversation toward whatever troubled her.
An image formed. A man... tall, lean, attractive, very intense...
he could see eyes, haunted eyes. That image led to a series of others,
quick, tumbling on each-other. A feral flash of teeth and yellow eyes,
strangely elongated fingers... her hand clasped around a man's wrist as
she helped him escape that peculiar predator. Impossible lights in the
sky, that man again, confused this time, lost, needing rescue; the fire of
Dana's anger and indignation, a homely man in a rusty suit holding her
hand, thumb caressing her, the flash of instant desire, then the sudden,
angry presence of that first man again, forcing her away from the plain
one.
Fionn sat bolt upright with a gasp, staring at her. She jumped a
little, startled by his movement.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, her gaze concerned. "I...no, just
a dream," he lied swiftly, still astonished by what he had sensed. Not
only had this woman been involved in some very peculiar events, she'd been
*sampled* by a young male of the Folk... one who had no training, or good
sense, apparently. Not only had he sampled her, he had tried to englamour
her as well, but clumsily, at levels that would have glamored one of the
Folk, not just a human! Could he have not known that what he was doing
was terribly dangerous to a human? Thankfully the encounter had been
interrupted, or the woman next to him would not have survived. Yet he
didn't know the male... his face was not familiar, his lineage unclear.
Fionn couldn't find any recognizable kinship in the rather ordinary face
he had drawn from her memories. Could there be Folk unknown to him?
The thought intrigued him, but he could think of no way to get her
to speak of the experience. She felt shamed by it, that much was clear.
She didn't understand that her response had been as instinctive as an
animal's. She only understood the humiliation of having her...(what was
he to her?) the other man find her in such a state. Her feelings for that
other man were what troubled her. She was uncertain of them, wanting it
to be just friendship, yet her body reacted to his, and her gentle nature
wanted to comfort him.
His curiosity aroused, Fionn closed his eyes again and sent her an
image of the first man, triggering another set of memories. Her partner,
that's what he was! Her work-partner! She didn't wish to feel attraction
to him because they worked together, and she thought it was unprofessional
and imprudent to give way to them. Her thoughts turned to a new subject,
and unabashedly he let her memories flood him; becoming more and more
fascinated by her.
She was so complex, so strong, yet so fragile at the same time. He
was startled to feel insecurity that ran very deep, and the entangling
threads of familial love. She felt she had let someone down, some family
member... her... father! Yes! He became aware of a presence now, one
departed but not yet reconciled to it. He had things left unsaid...
things his daughter hungered to hear, things he hungered to speak. He
should have continued on his Journey long before now, but was trapped by
his need to communicate. Fionn reached out, gently.
//Tell me, unquiet one... tell me. I will find a way for your
words to reach her.//
Emotion jolted through him, bringing tears. He blinked them away,
stunned. It had been too many years since he had felt the sting of tears.
//Yes, I will tell her, I swear it. Rest now.//
The presence dissipated slowly, reluctantly. Fionn sighed,
wondering how best to keep his promise. The flight still had many more
hours yet, surely she would fall asleep at some point, and he could shape
her dreams. Thinking of the time left until they reached land again made
him conscious that the buckle on the safety-belt was beginning to burn
against his abdomen, despite the shielding layers of wool and silk. He
shifted uncomfortably and edged his fingers beneath the fiber straps,
lifting it away for a moment's relief, careful not to let the metal touch
his fingers.
"Do you need help with that?"
He looked up to find his seat-mate looking at him sympathetically,
and decided to take shameless advantage. He summoned up a sheepish smile
and nodded.
"I do, if you wouldn't mind. I've got to..." he let the sentence
trail off, hinting at bodily needs. She nodded, and reached over to
release the catch. Her fingers brushed his stomach, and he thought
momentarily about how nice it would be were she to do that less
perfunctorily. It had been a long time since he had taken a human lover.
Perhaps he would find her again once Eithne was safely home. Dana opened
the seat-belt and carefully tucked it to one side, with the buckle
dangling over the edge of the seat. To do that she had to touch his
thigh, and though her touch was impersonal, now that he was thinking of
her as a potential lover, it roused him slightly.
"Thank you," he said softly, lading his voice with more than
thanks.
Dana looked up, and he caught her gaze with his, letting his pupils
widen. Her own followed suit. When he had shaken hands with her he had
automatically sampled her, and he used that to weave a hint of glamour on
her, just enough to bring a flush to her cheeks. His eyes caressed her
mouth, loving the full softness of her lips. They parted, inviting him,
then she seemed to shake herself awake, as if from a dream, and she looked
away. He was impressed. She must be very strong- willed, for her to be
able shake off his influence so quickly. She would be challenging.
"Glad to help," she said neutrally, opening her book again. He
noticed her fingers were shaking and smiled. She wasn't as unaffected as
she pretended. He stood and made his way back to the lavatory, to lend
credence to his request for help.
####
Dana watched Fionnvarra walk away, eyes lingering on the way his
expensive, tailored slacks fit over his rear. She wondered idly what he'd
look like without them, and her imagination took flight, filling in
details. Long, sleek muscles, firm, satiny skin, dark auburn curls
surrounding... Suddenly realizing what she was doing, she forced her gaze
back to her book, blushing hotly. What on earth was the matter with her?
The last time she'd reacted like this to a man was... she stopped and
thought about it for a moment. Never. It was never. Not with a *normal*
man, anyway. She still wasn't sure exactly what Brother Andrew had been,
but normal wasn't among the adjectives she might choose to describe him.
It didn't apply to Fionnvarra MacCumhaill either.
She made a disgusted face and shook her head. Working with Mulder
was beginning to get to her. Just because the man had an unusual allergy
and a rare genetic mutation didn't mean he was a candidate for an X-File!
Her reaction could be simply and easily explained... it had been more than
a year since she'd had a sexual relationship with a man, and her seat-mate
was an incredibly good-looking man. She was attracted to him for the most
basic of reasons... she was sexually frustrated. The answer wasn't
appealing, but it was logical.
For a moment she toyed with the idea of flirting with him, then she
sighed. Whatever skill she'd ever mastered at that had faded over years
of discipline and reserve. Her high-school and college years had been
spent in libraries and study-groups. Looking back on it with 20/20
hindsight, she could see that to some extent she had used studying as an
excuse to avoid social contact. Later, she had built a shield of cool
professionalism against the discrimination she encountered in medical
school, and that had isolated her as well. After that the rigid regimen
of the Academy had instilled its own unique signature to her interactions.
Now she was ready for more, and wasn't completely sure how to go about it
any more.
Movement in the aisle caught her eye, she watched the Irishman
return from the lavatory and stop beside his sister's seat to talk to her,
his face expressive. He was concerned about her, he *cared*, and it
showed. It was nice to see, reminding her of her own family. He stayed
there for several minutes, talking and laughing with her until the flight
attendants chased him back to his seat with the drink cart. He slid in
and sat down with a grin.
"She's after making the poor fool next to her frantic... she keeps
pretending she's having contractions, and he panics every time. I told
her to stop it, but I doubt she will."
Scully laughed with him. "Oh, that's cruel! I take it he's not
experienced?"
Fionnvarra shook his head. "He can't be more than seventeen, and I
doubt he's ever even been kissed, let alone fu..." he stopped abruptly,
looked at her apologetically, and continued "I mean, had any more direct
experience with a female."
Scully grinned, willing to let his slip go by, especially in light
of her thoughts a few moments earlier. "Poor thing," she commiserated.
"Did you set him straight?"
"Aye, and told her to stop teasing him, but I doubt she will. At
that stage she needs something to keep her mind off her discomfort. I
remember all too well how hellaciously uncomfortable it is to sit for long
periods of time when you're that far along."
Scully looked askance at him, wondering at his phrasing. The way
he'd said it was as if *he* had direct experience with pregnancy. Almost
as if in response to her thought, he grinned.
"Listen to me now! You'd think *I'd* had a child. I meant to say
that I remember my other sister's descriptions of that stage."
"Drinks?" The flight attendant asked, cheerily, interrupting them.
"Whiskey, straight." Fionn said instantly, then looked at Scully.
"Can I get you anything?"
She didn't usually indulge, let alone allow complete strangers to
buy her drinks, but what the hell? She was on vacation, wasn't she? And
he spent more money on clothes than she made in a month, he could afford
it. Ignoring the warning voice in her head that sounded annoyingly like
Mulder's, she nodded.
"I'll have a Bloody Mary, thanks."
####
Dana woke from a wonderfully comforting dream about her father to
find she was being gently shaken awake. She blinked sleepily at the man
next to her, wondering at the warmth in his gaze.
"Mmm? What's up?"
He smiled, a sensual curve of his mouth that made her want to find
out if it tasted as good as it looked. She looked away, flustered.
"We're almost there. I thought you'd like to take a look from up
here before we land."
"What? Oh!" She sat up and looked out the window, down through
wisps of cloud to an amazing greenness below. It dawned on her that the
land she was looking at was the exact color of her seatmate's eyes. A
thousand shades of green, woven into a subtly changing whole. It looked
like a postcard... green fields partitioned off by hedges, here and there
a narrow, meandering road or stream, the tiny white forms of grazing
sheep... it was incredibly pastoral. And incredibly *empty*. She was
used to looking down into the gray haze of urban sprawl when she flew
anywhere. She glanced up finally, and found him looking over her shoulder
hungrily, as if he wanted to consume the land beneath them. He caught her
glance and looked away, obviously embarrassed.
"You miss it, don't you?" she asked softly.
"Very much... I hadn't realized how much."
"I think we all feel that way about home, no matter where it is."
He nodded, eyes focused past her, she sat back in the seat to let
him look. After a moment he sighed, and sat back.
"Thank you."
"No, thank you for waking me. I'm glad I got to see it this way."
"I thought you might appreciate it. May I ask where you are going
once we've landed?"
Dana hid a smile... was he flirting with her? She thought perhaps
he was.
"I'm supposed to meet with a distant relative in a place called
Ardnaree, which I'm told is not too far from Sligo. But I've got nine
days, and I plan to enjoy every one of them, I thought I might just be a
tourist."
He smiled. "I'm sure you will. Are you driving?"
"Yes, I've arranged to rent a car."
"Wise choice, I think the tours are not for you. You'll enjoy
yourself more this way. Oddly, my home is not far from Inishcrone, just
off Killala Bay which is where you'll be, at Ardnaree. I know the area
well, if you'd like me to suggest some sights, or places to stay, unless
you're staying with your kin."
He *was* flirting with her! He was also scoping out her plans.
Ordinarily that would make her nervous, but for some reason she trusted
him. She smiled warmly.
"I will be staying with my great-aunt, so I don't need suggestions
on where to stay. I have a list of things to see that my travel agent
gave me, but I'd love to have some suggestions on what to see from a
native. I'm sure they would be much more reliable than what she gleaned
from a guidebook."
"Aye, since I don't take kickbacks," Fionn said sardonically.
"May I see your list?"
She got it out of her bag and handed it to him. He studied it with
drawn brows for a moment, then took a black and gold Montblanc fountain
pen out of his pocket. She almost whistled, the man must have more money
than he knew what to do with! She didn't know too many people who used
four-hundred-dollar pens. The heavily enamelled barrel gleamed as he
lined through a couple of the names and wrote in others, then handed it
back to her.
"Overall not a bad list, but I've noted two places I think you
would prefer. Your travel agent has good taste."
"I'll tell her that,"
"Sure, and she'll be thrilled, no?" he inquired with a grin that
took her breath away. She found herself grinning back.
"Sure and she will!" she replied, then blushed, suddenly afraid
he'd misinterpret her. "Oh, I didn't mean to make fun of your accent..."
"I know that, don't worry," he assured her.
She glanced out the window again, saw the glint of sun on a broad
expanse of water, as well as the rolling green fields, and turned back to
him. "You said we were almost there?"
"Aye, ten, maybe fifteen minutes."
"Where's Shannon?"
"The river? Right there... though 'tis really an estuary at this
point."
"No, I mean the city!"
He looked puzzled. "What city?"
"Shannon."
He smiled gently, understanding her query at last. "There is no
city called Shannon."
"I thought it was the Shannon airport."
"It is, but there's no city there. 'Tis midway between Ennis and
Limerick, if you're looking for the nearest city."
"Oh." She felt a bit chagrined at her own ignorance. "Then the
airport is in the middle of nowhere?"
He grinned. "Aye, but then, many would say that description suits
the entire country."
Dana looked out again at the pastoral emptiness and smiled. "I
think I'm going to like Ireland."
"I think you are, too," he said softly, and something in his voice
sent a shiver through her, stirring something inside her. She felt her
nipples tighten and was glad her blazer hid that response from him.
Perhaps it was a good thing they would be going their separate ways when
the plane landed. She wasn't accustomed to having this sort of reaction
to complete strangers! In this day and age, casual sex could be dangerous
in more than just the traditional sense, and she suspected it wouldn't
take much effort on his part to persuade her to it.
####
As Dana stood in line at the customs table, waiting her turn, she
realized that there were undercover agents scattered throughout the
terminal... they were as obvious to her as uniformed guards might be to
someone else. They reminded her forcibly of Secret Service agents. She
watched them surreptitiously talking into hidden microphones and listening
to hidden receivers, and wondered what was going on. When her turn came
she put her bags on the counter, and nodded in the general direction of
one of the dark-suited men.
"What's going on? Why is security so tight?"
The woman behind the counter eyed her suspiciously. "Why'd you
want to know?"
"I'm in that line of work myself, I was just curious."
"And what line of work might that be?"
"Law enforcement, of a sort."
"The F.B.I., to be precise?" the woman asked, smiling suddenly.
"Well... yes. How did you..." Dana stammered, feeling a bit
bewildered by this sudden surge of apparently psychic people.
"It's on y'r bag, dear."
Scully stared at the seal emblazoned on the side of her carry-on
and started to laugh. "I'd totally forgotten that was on there! So that's
how he knew! I wondered!"
"Who knew what?"
"The man who sat next to me on the plane guessed where I worked
and wouldn't tell me how he knew. Now I know! He must have seen my bag."
"Ah, he was after flirtin' with you, was he? Men!"
Scully chuckled. "Well, it wasn't so bad, he was very
good-looking. You probably noticed him when he came through here a bit
ahead of me, he and his sister. They're both tall, red-haired, very good
looking, the woman was quite pregnant."
The woman frowned thoughtfully, and looked up from her task,
feeling around in the bag for weapons. "I don't think I noticed them,
miss. Perhaps they were in the other queue."
"I saw them walk through, not ten minutes ago! Odd, now that I
think about it, they weren't stopped."
The customs agent laughed. "The Pope himself couldn't get through
here without bein' checked today, you must be mistaken. Perhaps you just
looked away at the wrong moment."
Dana was pretty sure she hadn't but she didn't want to argue about
it. "Perhaps so."
The woman smiled and closed her bag. "Have you anything to
declare?"
"No, nothing... but I would still like to know what's going on, why
security is so tight."
The woman looked right and left, then leaned forward, her voice
pitched conspiratorially. "Seein' as how you're a professional, I'll tell
you. The PM is comin' through here today. It's not been announced, but
he'll be here."
Well, that explained it all right. Scully summoned up a smile and
thanked the woman, asked directions to the car rental place, and went on.
A few minutes later, rental-car keys in hand, Dana emerged into the
parking lot and was stunned to realize how small the airport was... it was
tiny, really. To her amazement she noticed that on the other side of the
lot there was a little park-like area, within which three large stones
formed a dolmen... in an airport parking lot, of all places! Amazing! As
she studied the stones, she noticed Fionnvarra and his sister walking
toward the dolmen.
As she lifted her hand to wave, a car near them disintegrated into a
ball of fire. She cried out as the shockwave knocked her flat on the
ground. She felt heat and pressure as the blast roiled outward, but to
her utter amazement none of the glass or metal shrapnel touched her,
instead raining to the ground all around her as if she were under an
invisible umbrella.
As the thunder of the explosion died down, she lifted her head an
inch to see if it was safe to stand. There was a peculiar shimmer to the
air, not quite like a mirage, but similar. Stranger yet, she could see
Fionnvarra and Eithne, standing in the midst of licking flame and smoke.
She had to be hallucinating! There was no way it was possible! She
blinked, and the scene remained the same. Eithne and Fionnvarra stood
less than four feet from the mangled remains of the vehicle that had
exploded. Fionn had his arms outstretched, an expression of intense
concentration on his face. Dana gaped, dumbfounded. How could they still
be standing? It was impossible! They appeared completely unscathed!
There was movement behind Fionn, she watched in disbelief as a
figure emerged... from where? Where had she come from? She was just
*there* all of the sudden! A tall, red-haired woman, whose features
marked her unmistakably as kin to Fionn and Eithne, though her hair was a
lighter shade, and streaked with gray. She wore a long, loose yellow gown
that left her arms bare, held at the shoulders by huge disk-like clasps,
and cinched at the waist with a belt of linked disks. Dana gasped to
realize she wore no shoes, yet she walked unflinchingly over asphalt that
was on fire in places, and studded with broken glass and shards of twisted
metal! She put out her hands and made a gesture toward the burning
vehicle. The flames flickered, and died, leaving a cloud of oily black
smoke drifting upward.
Only then did Fionn let his arms fall, and he shuddered, visibly
exhausted. The woman in yellow turned and placed her palm against his
face, caressingly, and he seemed to recover a little. Dana noticed with
surprise that they were the same height... all three of them over six
feet. Eithne reached for the older woman and the trio embraced, like
family reunited, then turned and began to walk away from the wreckage.
"Miss? Miss? Are you hurt miss? Please, let me help you up...
there's an ambulance on its way..."
Scully dragged her attention back to the situation at hand and
slowly got to her knees, letting the man in the badly-fitting black suit,
and a radio receiver wire around his ear help her up. Suddenly the
parking lot was full of men in similar suits, with suspicious-looking
bulges that bespoke shoulder-holsters, all running to and fro, shouting
orders, looking like a bunch of ants whose nest had just been disturbed.
"I'm not hurt, thank you, just a little... dazed, I guess."
The man looked relieved, and sighed, running a hand through his
thinning sandy-colored hair. "Damned terrorists! We thought we had
security tight enough, but obviously something slipped past us. We're
lucky it wasn't worse, the fire seems to have died out on it's own. It
could've started a chain-reaction what with all these cars in the park!"
Dana refrained from mentioning the woman in the yellow gown, and
nodded. "Very lucky."
Glancing back toward Fionnvarra and the two women, she frowned and
looked around the parking lot. They were *gone*! Just... gone. How
could they have disappeared in the thirty seconds it had taken to get to
her feet?
"Did you just see three people over there?" she asked, pointing
toward the dolmen.
He shook his head, looking slightly puzzled. "No, miss, I didn't."
She sighed. "Somehow I didn't think so. I must be seeing things."
He looked at her, concerned. "Would you like to have a doctor take
a look at you?"
She smiled. "I am a doctor, and I'm fine, thanks."
"If you say so, miss, but I'd like to have someone look at you just
the same, if you don't mind. If anything were to happen to you later on,
because of this we'd be liable. Also, we'd like to ask you a few
questions, just routine, to see if you saw anything."
She almost laughed out loud. Saw anything? She'd seen plenty, but
nothing that made any sense, or that she was willing to tell anyone else.
They'd ship her back to America on the next flight out! She nodded
pleasantly at the man.
"I understand, liability, and all that. I'll see your doctor, but
I know what he'll say. There's nothing wrong with me. Lead on."
"I'll get your bags for you," he volunteered helpfully, picking
them up, and she reflected that there was at least one nice thing about
countries where they did things the old fashioned way.
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