Copyright:  Thursday, March 10, 2005 12:39:57 AM   PARADISE ISLAND BERMUDA TRIANGLE EARLY EVENING - DAY 2             Penelope Kensington was almost fifteen years old, and proud of it. By all rights, she figured that boredom should have killed her off ages ago.           Oh sure, she lived in a big fancy house with lots of servants. And her father was a powerful U.S. Senator. Not many girls could make that kind of claim. But for heaven’s sake, did politics always have to be so boring? Every time she turned around these days, her father was being compelled to attend some dinner or charity or function. How she longed for those misty golden days, back when her mother was still alive, before she’d gotten shuttled back and forth between nannies, boarding school, summer camps, and still more nannies!           Now that she was fourteen, practically a real woman herself, the nannies were called ‘companions.’ How very PC, she silently sneered. It still amounted to the same thing--Daddy’s little girl needed watching, protecting, coddling. And she was so sick of it, sometimes she just wanted to scream!           All she’d wanted was the chance to prove how grown up she was. She’d spent months begging her father for this vacation, without a bodyguard or well-meaning ‘companion’ overseeing her every move. And then, just when she thought she’d finally been granted her golden wish, Mr. Stanwick had decided to send Maxie with her! It just wasn’t fair!           A scowl darkened her pretty young face as she glared across the raft at Max’s grim profile. He was the bane of her existence, she fumed. Absolutely the worst thing that ever could have happened to her!           Of course she was glad that her father got along so well with Mr. Stanwick, because he didn’t have many real friends. Senators didn’t, very often, because everyone wanted a favor. And it was hard to know who your real friends were, when you held a powerful position.           But why couldn’t the Stanwicks have had a daughter, or at least someone nice, instead of snotty old Maximillian J. Stanwick IV? Every time they were forced together, he tormented her by making faces, or insulting her, or yanking on her long blonde hair. Once he’d even tried to cut her ponytail off with a sharp pair of scissors! He was a real jerk!           She was glad that his precious little Palm Pilot had gotten destroyed in the storm. He liked to strut around with it, and make important noises. Like he ever really watched stock quotes! Probably he just used it to stare at nasty naked pictures, or something equally gross.           And didn’t it just figure that they’d gotten stuck on the same raft? She’d been at the front of the plane with the pilots, why hadn’t she scrambled into the first raft with them? She was sure that they wouldn’t be lost now, if Maxie wasn’t with them.           Still--there was something marvelously exciting about being shipwrecked like this! Or there would be, if it wasn’t so darned hot. And if she wasn’t so terribly thirsty. She’d tried drinking some of the rainwater sloshing around in the raft, but it hadn’t tasted good at all. And she’d just felt more thirsty afterwards.           She and Maxie were the only ones awake right now. She tried to bolster her flagging courage by remembering that the FBI man trusted her to find an island where they’d be safe. He sure was cute, a lot cuter than Maxie ever would be. Too bad he liked his partner so much, she’d have enjoyed flirting with him a little.           She did feel sorry for the Schaumbergs. They were so old, the crash must have really scared them. They were hiding it well, though, and trying to be funny so that she and Maxie wouldn’t get scared. She’d never met anyone like them before, but already she liked them a lot.           Overhead, the sun was scorching in a clear blue sky. She wished it would get cloudy again, just to provide some shade. She was so hot! Even a cool breeze would help, or a nice cold glass of lemonade, or...           Suddenly she squinted, and shaded her sunburned face with one hand. There were clouds out there, just on the horizon! And something dark underneath them, something that looked almost like...           "An island! I see an island!"           Her shriek of excitement ripped through the air like a lightning bolt. "Come on, you guys, wake up!"           Max spun around to stare, stunned, at the distant hazy smudge. She had the brief satisfaction of seeing his slack-jawed expression before he lunged forward, sloshing water over everyone. "It is an island! We’re saved!"           Reuben and Esther were already gripping hands, babbling so fast that Penny could barely understand them. "Agent Mulder, wake up!" she urged, boldly laying a hand on Mulder’s broad shoulder. He jolted upright so fast that she gasped, and snatched her tingling hand back. "I found us an island!"           Gradually the excitement penetrated Scully’s drugged, restless sleep. She choked back an agonized moan, and struggled to sit up. Max and Mulder were already scrambling to their knees, disassembling the makeshift sail, while Reuben yanked in the empty fishing net.           Penelope couldn’t stop bouncing up and down as Esther hugged her tight. She’d done it, she’d saved them all! What a glorious adventure this was going to be, after all!           Scully rubbed her eyes to clear them, and stared in wondering disbelief. It was an island, jutting up from the endless waves like a tantalizing beacon!           Excitement began to chase the cobwebs from her sleepy brain. She sternly quelled her rising elation. There was no guarantee that they’d find food, water, or even rough shelter on those faraway slopes. It could be a barren, rocky outcropping incapable of supporting life. It might be teeming with poisonous snakes and dangerous predators. A million things could go wrong between here and there!           But it was land--and any land was preferable to boiling like an oversized lobster out here in the ocean! Even if they couldn’t survive there, at least they could rest overnight, then try to find something better in the morning.           At any rate, this was definitely their best chance of staying alive, so they’d damned well better make it count!           "C’mon, Maxie!" Penelope urged as the wiry teenager snatched a pair of collapsible oars from the emergency kit, and eagerly snapped them together. "Let’s go already!"           He threw her a fierce grin, then tossed one oar to Mulder and slid his own through its flexible mounting. Moments later, they were slicing through the gentle waves like an overgrown turtle jazzed on double-strength espresso.           Mulder spared the boy an approving glance as they threw energy into each stroke. The kid was good, coordinated and strong enough to match his fast rhythm. "You’ve done this before?" he exclaimed, panting with exertion as the distance to their destination slowly narrowed.           "Captain of the rowing team!" Max grunted. "Four years! Is that the fastest you can go?" And he defiantly picked up the pace, until Mulder was hard-pressed to match his powerful strokes.           The low island drew steadily closer, until they could all see lush gold and green trees spreading up its rocky sides. And where there were trees...           Scully felt her heart pound with rising excitement. It was still too early to determine whether this island would support human life--but the preliminary signs were encouraging!           The aqua-blue waves shifted to light green. They could see the beach clearly now, a long curving expanse of golden-white sand. Raucous gulls rose from the water and veered in their direction. Their graceful wings tilted through the humid air as they hovered and stared at the strange craft beneath them.           "It looks like paradise!" Penelope gasped, her sapphire eyes wide with wonder. "Come on, Maxie! We’re almost there!"           The raft surged into choppier water, and rolling white-tipped breakers propelled them forward. Huge flocks of nesting birds rose in a dizzying flurry of wings. Their screeching cries filled the air with a deafening clamor.           Scully watched the gulls wheeling in giant circles over their heads, and sighed with relief. A large avian population required significant amounts of food and fresh water. If birds could survive here, so could they--at least until they were rescued.           Their raft furrowed deep into the gleaming white sand, and scraped to a shuddering halt. An outraged crab quickly scuttled away, and vanished into the churning surf. Overhead, the shrieking birds slowly winged back to their disturbed nests downwind, and their discordant squawking faded away.           The golden-white beach gradually sloped up to meet a scraggly line of weathered grass. Further back, thick profusions of vines and trees spread out in all directions, softening the angular landscape. Huge, rangy palm trees angled out over their sand; their wide fronds waved gently in the light breeze. Cool, inviting shade beckoned...           Yet for a long moment, no one dared to move. They were all too dazed with wonder, too weak with relief. And, just perhaps, a little too afraid that the breathtaking mirage might vanish if they reached for it.           Finally Mulder stirred, and wiped sweat off his sunburned forehead. "Everybody out!" he ordered. "We need to find shelter before the sun sets. Let’s drag the raft up under those trees, so it won’t get washed away at high tide."           Every muscle in his body protested as he clambered over the side, and gained his balance in the tugging surf. The foamy water felt refreshingly cold against his shins. Coarse sand shifted beneath his shoes, and he dug his feet in deeper for traction.           Scully clasped his hand, and he carefully lifted her overboard. Penelope needed no further urging. By the time Max and the Schaumbergs had clumsily scrabbled out and found their footing, she was already splashing in the frothing surf, scaring a school of tiny minnows with her exuberance. "It is just like paradise!" she laughed over her shoulder.           Mulder tossed the girl an indulgent smile. Let her have some fun now. Soon enough, grim reality would settle in, and no one would feel like celebrating.           Max expertly disassembled and stored the oars in their compact pouch. "Shouldn’t we empty out all this water before hauling the raft ashore?" he grumbled, clutching the rope opposite Mulder.           Scully shook her head. "We can’t afford to abandon any fresh water until we’ve found a comparable source nearby."           Max threw her a disbelieving look. "Fresh?" he echoed, kicking the rubber raft with one soggy tennis shoe. "This? We’ve been sitting in it all afternoon, it’s gross!"           Mulder hoisted his end, and began to drag it up the beach. "All the same," he countered as the teenager reluctantly mirrored his efforts, "we can’t afford to waste it."           Scully still felt lightheaded, disjoined from her body. And the water felt so good, she didn’t want to move just yet. So she merely watched as they trudged up the beach and hauled the raft under a thick cluster of overhanging vines.           It felt strange to be standing on the sidelines in a crisis situation. She’d have to pull herself together fast, because Mulder was going to need her help. Everyone would have to work together, and work hard, if they wanted to survive.           As if her thoughts had summoned him, Mulder was already hurrying back, a worried question in his eyes. "I’m fine," she promised, before he could ask. "Just a little foggy still. It’ll pass."           "Good." She heard a wealth of relief in his low voice. Then he lightly touched her uninjured arm, and an impish grin curved his lips. "Now do you believe in hunches?" he teased. "Not too damned bad, for a novice!"           Scully turned to gaze up at the rustling hillside, and allowed herself a wholly unprofessional sigh of pleasure. The setting sun was at their backs, crowning every lush treetop with golden light. A fresh, spicy scent blew past them on the warm wind, hinting of ripe fruit and cool shade. Vivid flowers peeped out of the underbrush as thick vines stirred in the fitful breeze.           It was undoubtedly the most beautiful place she’d ever seen!           "Not too damned bad at all," she conceded with a slow smile.           Penelope splashed up, spraying them with cool water. "Sorry!" she panted, skidding to a halt. "Honestly, can you believe this place? It’s gorgeous!"           Time to start taking control, Scully thought with a weary sigh, and grimly shook her head. "Even gorgeous places can be dangerous, Penelope," she warned. "Come on, it’s time for a few safety lessons."           The girl’s shoulders sagged as she reluctantly followed Scully up the beach. Then Mulder caught her eye, and wryly winked. Brightening, she charged up the slope, and settled herself on a fallen log.           Max had angrily stomped a short distance away, and thumped down in the shifting sand. Well, Scully mused as she sank onto a soft mossy patch, we all react to disaster in different ways. Reuben and Esther crack jokes, Max sulks, Mulder and I have to play ‘good cop, bad cop’ to keep everyone in line. Penelope’s the lucky one, treating this whole ordeal like a big adventure. If only we had that luxury!           Cool shade enveloped her, and she welcomed the momentary relief. Her fractured shoulder was going to make exploring the island very painful--but it couldn’t be helped. Everyone had a job to do, and hers couldn’t be delegated. Where Mulder went, there also went she...or however the ancient line read. They were a team, and that was that.           "Okay," she said, lifting her good hand to get everyone’s attention. "Time to go over a few basic survival rules. You too, Max."           The surly teen swivelled around and glared at her. She met his hostility with cool disdain until he was forced to break eye contact. Abashed, he ducked his head, and his shoulders slumped. Satisfied, she turned back to face her impromptu class.           "Reuben," she began, glancing in the old man’s direction, "you’ve had to rough it, and that’s a skill you never forget. But the rest of you have never been stranded before. So we need to review some safety rules.           "Rule number one for surviving in unfamiliar surroundings--never take anything for granted! Penelope," she warned, a devilish gleam lighting her eyes, "you’re sitting in one of this island’s most dangerous spots. Spiders and snakes love dark, damp places where they can hide and stalk their prey. You think you’re safe because nothing was lurking in plain view, but what if something slithers up from the shadows? You’d be dead before you even knew it was there."           Penelope yelped and leaped to her feet again, frantically peering at the rough tree bark. Her panicked expression made Max snicker. Furious tears sparkled in the girl’s blue eyes as she whirled to glare at him. "Speaking of poisonous insects..." she retorted.           "And Max," Scully quickly interrupted, before they could launch a full-scale war, "never wander off, even around the next bend, without telling someone where you’re going. We don’t know anything about this island. Wild animals could be hiding in the trees, you might fall and break your leg on a hillside. And you could die before we find you."           He scowled and glared at a distant patch of rocks, prompting Penelope to smirk back at him.           Scully ignored their childish behavior. "Next rule," she instructed, gesturing at the nearby foliage. "Don’t eat or drink anything you find, even if you think it’s safe. Agent Mulder and I are trained in wilderness survival tactics.  Always bring potential foods to one of us first, so we can identify it.  There are no poison antidotes in that emergency kit, and I’m not sticking my finger down your throat if you’re being willfully stupid.  Understood?"           "What about fish?" Esther interjected. "When I was young, we caught and sold fish to the local markets. I still remember which ones are safe to eat."           Scully gratefully nodded. She knew which piscine toxins were most deadly, but her fishing experience was limited to inland lakes and rivers. "Then I’ll defer to your knowledge in that area," she agreed.           "And I’ll cook whatever you catch," Reuben promised, patting his wife’s plump arm. "We owned our own restaurant for thirty-five years. If there’s food here, we’ll make it good."           "What about us?" Penelope demanded, gingerly kneeling by Esther’s feet. "I’m hungry now! And thirsty!"           "We all are, Penelope," Mulder agreed.           "We’re also dehydrated," Scully warned. "And that can be dangerous. Drink slowly, or you may trigger an emetic response. You’ll throw up," she elaborated, when the girl stared up at her in blank confusion. "Now I know that the water in our raft doesn’t taste good, because we’ve been sitting in it all day. And we did take in some saltwater during the storm. But until we can find a fresh source nearby, we’ll just have to cope."           Max turned back around long enough to point at their emergency pouch. "What about that water?" he demanded.           Mulder firmly shook his head. "That water is purified, and only gets used in a true emergency. See all those birds down there, on the shore? They couldn’t survive if there wasn’t fresh water nearby. Scully and I will find it. I want the four of you to set up camp for tonight.           "Max," he added, stiffly rising to his feet, "I want you to gather dry wood, and pile it here above the high-tide line. We’ll light a signal fire when it gets dark. Esther, why don’t you start showing Penelope what’s edible. Maybe you can find some food for dinner, so we don’t have to open the MRE’s in our pouch. And Reuben..."           "Reuben can stay here and protect the raft," Scully interrupted, aiming a meaningful look at her partner. "Drowned insects will not make it tastier, or any safer to drink."           Mulder blinked, then slowly nodded. "True enough. You feel up to some exploring, Scully?"           She heaved a weary sigh, and grasped his supportive hand. "No time like the present."           Max was already stomping off into the underbrush, muttering under his breath. "Don’t wander too far!" Scully called after him.           A derisive grunt drifted back to her, then a muffled crash and something that sounded suspiciously like youthful swearing.           Mulder quickly turned away before the others could glimpse his unrepentant smirk. "Come on, Scully," he urged, guiding his partner in the opposite direction. "Let’s search this way first." • • • • • • TWO HOURS LATER           Even among the rustling trees, the tropical afternoon heat was stifling. Scully felt hot and dirty, and her shoulder was starting to throb again. She’d hoped for a nice, easy walk along the beach--but sheer rocky outcrops at the island’s southern point had forced them inland and up, climbing a steep ridge toward the mountain’s summit.           Mulder’s hand was strong and secure whenever she needed help scrambling up a rock or over a fallen log. And there were trailing vines everywhere. But her medication was wearing off, and fatigue was taking its toll on her flagging energy reserves.           "I need to rest," she finally confessed, leaning back against a huge curving tree trunk.           Mulder arched his shoulders until they popped, then brushed an unruly lock of hair from his eyes. His face and clothes were smudged with dirt, but his jade eyes were shining with excitement. He was acting like an overgrown kid with a new toy--and he’d never looked more handsome.           It just wasn’t fair! she mused, sighing. Lately everything had been going wrong. Their clandestine trip to the Florida Keys had turned into a deadly calamity. Poor José had been killed, and she’d fractured her shoulder--which had caused her migraines, which had caused this enforced vacation, which had caused them to be shipwrecked...           Scully gritted her teeth in frustration. What else could go wrong?         Mulder was watching her, reading her emotions with uncanny ease. "You gonna be okay?" he urged, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. "This isn’t exactly how I’d envisioned spending our vacation, either, you know."           "I didn’t want to take a vacation!" she retorted, jerking away. "Why couldn’t Skinner have minded his own business?"           Mulder bit back his immediate reply, and patiently counted to ten. "He is on our side," he finally reminded her, "even if it doesn’t seem like it right now."           "Then he should have let me finish this latest batch of experiments," she grumbled, glaring impotently at the nearest gnarled tree trunk. "Now I’ll have to start all over again when we get home. And I know that I was onto something critical!"           "I know." Mulder stroked her sunburned neck with gentle fingers. "But you’ll be able to duplicate it. I have faith in you. And we’ll all help you make up the lost time."           Her tensed muscles eased slightly, and he knew that her sudden flare of anger was fading. "Now come on," he coaxed, brushing a light kiss against her averted forehead. "We need to finish exploring this section of the island before sunset."           Scully sighed as he began climbing the steep hillside again. Then she jammed her right fist against her hip, and canted her head toward the distant beach. "I’ll tell you one thing I don’t need, and that’s for them to try playing matchmaker with us! ‘Don’t push, Poppa,’ indeed!" she snapped, mocking Esther’s lilting voice. "This is not Gilligan’s Island!"           A devilish grin suddenly curved Mulder’s lips. "Robinson Crusoe?" he countered, glancing back at her.           His quick rebuttal was so absurd that Scully groaned with exasperation. "If you ever call me ‘Friday,’ Fox Mulder," she warned, fighting to maintain a threatening scowl, "I’m gonna belt you!"           Mulder began to chuckle. She looked so much like her long-dead double on the ghostly Queen Anne, with her fist clenched and her eyes shooting fire, that he felt a sudden distinct ache in his jaw. Of course he’d deserved to get slugged, for daring to kiss Emma before he’d jumped overboard. But he honestly hadn’t expected her to use her right fist, when logically everyone in alternate universes was supposed to be left-handed.           The need to brighten his partner’s grim mood outweighed any possible consequences. Instinctively he rubbed his chin, where Emma’s bruise had ached for days after his return. "Right hand, or left?" he countered with a wicked grin.           Scully recognized that manic gleam in his eyes. And this time, she was determined to beat him at his own game. "Left!" she retorted.           Mulder’s jaw dropped open in blank surprise.          His stunned look absolved her frustration. "I had you, Mulder! I had you big time!" she taunted, ambling away.           "Scully!" He hurried after her, and spun her around. "How did you know about that? I never told anyone that Emma hit me..."           Her impish smirk turned into a genuine laugh. "I cracked your computer codes years ago!" she admitted. "How else can I be expected to keep up with you? Besides, I knew there was more to your story than you’d admitted--so I read your journal notes, before you submitted a final report to Deputy Director Kersh.           "Never kiss a girl when she’s not expecting it!" she teased, lightly tapping his chin with one finger. And she slipped away again, leaving him standing in the green half-light with a dumbfounded look on his mobile face.           "Whatever happened to honesty and trust between partners, Scully?" he yelled after her, scrambling to catch up.           Scully threw a mocking grin over her shoulder. "Whatever happened to full disclosure between partners?" she retaliated. "Come on, Mulder, hurry up! We’re almost at the top! And the view from up here is amazing!"