DANA - Part I  by Peggy Li. Feb. 1, 1995

	The rain rapped incessantly against the windowpane but even the 
wet couldn't spoil my mood.  I had just finished a tough caper and had 
settled down at my desk for the reward of a bologna sandwich.  A cup of 
tepid, gritty coffee sat at my elbow to help wash it down.   I allowed myself 
this moment with the perhaps foolish notion that Keppo and his boys had 
had enough of tangling with the coppers downtown...all thanks to me.  
Yeah, this night of all nights I wasn't looking for any trouble.  And then 
trouble walked through my door.
	A bundle of soggy overcoat let a cold wash of air through my 
doorway then shut the door firmly behind.  The person's head was 
obscured by a large floppy felt hat but the dainty hands and ankles alerted 
me to the fact that my visitor was female.  I took my feet off the desktop 
and waited for her to speak.
	She didn't say a word.  Her black leather-gloved hands began to peel 
the rain-gear from her person and what was found inside was, well, not to 
get too steamed up about the details, was nice.
	She was neither fat nor thin, anywhere between twenty and thirty, 
and barely over five feet tall.  She wore a gray silk dress that shaped where 
her body shaped it.  After hanging her coat and scarf on the stand near the 
door, the last trappings of her get-up, the hat, was removed with a grace 
that hinted more at precise efficiency than grand flourish.  The hair that 
tumbled free from the confines of the headgear were locks of fiery red, 
shoulder length.  Her face was round, her mouth a pucker of crimson that 
almost made this hardened detective blush, but that wasn't the worst of 
it.  My visitor turned her gaze upon me while brushing stray drops of rain 
off the top of her hat- her eyes were a smoky gray, the color of a 
midnight fog over the bay.  Strange eyes, that seemed to shift color with 
her every movement.  As she walked slowly toward me, into and out of 
the feeble light my desk lamp threw into the room, I could swear the 
woman's eyes changed from gray to blue to green in a matter of seconds, 
finally settling back to gray.  Those eyes burned with an intelligence and 
intensity that made my gun hand twitch.  I'll stick with the adjective I chose 
before.  She was nice.
	"Mister...?"  She glanced down at the nameplate on my desk, but I 
beat her to the punch.
	"Who sent you?"  I demanded.  The girl's eyes widened and narrowed 
and then looked from the nameplate to my face.
	"Is that your name or is your stuffed animal at the cleaners this 
evening?"
	Her quip surprised me but my gun-hand relaxed a fraction- she didn't 
seem to be Keppo's type.  Too classy.  "And you are?" I drawled in return, 
pushing the nameplate face-down and out of the way.
	"Dana Scully," she stuck out a gloved hand and glanced down for an 
instant at my right, hidden in the shadows under the desk.  It was resting 
comfortably near an automatic I kept stored there for emergencies.  As a 
show of good faith I took her hand and shook it, then kept my hand on the 
desktop and away from my gun.  Something about this girl was very 
familiar.
	"My father is Captain William Scully," she added helpfully, sliding into 
the seat next to my desk.
	"Ah," I replied, as if that name meant something to me. "Sorry about 
my manners before, Scully, it's just that...I had the feeling you were sent 
here to spy on me."
	Ms. Scully frowned slightly at that, her full lips quirking up at a corner.  
"I've been told that you were good.  I'm looking forward to working with 
you."  Her slightly husky voice was deceptively neutral.
	"Isn't it nice to suddenly be so highly regarded," I replied with an 
ingratiating grin.  Scully simply laced her fingers together in front of her at 
my sarcasm.
	"I *do* have a case for you, you know.  It╣s very important to me 
and my family, so if you don╣t want to help me- or can╣t help me- then I will 
take my story elsewhere."  Suddenly it clicked for me where I had seen this 
woman before.
	"I╣ve read your story.  In the papers."
	"And?"
	"I╣m interested.  You, Dana Scully, made a splash two  weeks ago in 
the society pages- just returned from schooling in Virginia..."
	"Will you help me?"  she interrupted.
	"Sure."
	Scully reached into a small black handbag that materialized into her 
lap out of nowhere and pulled out a photograph.  Handing it to me, she 
began her story.
	"This is my sister, Melissa.  She'd always been the wild one in my 
family, liked to go to parties, liked to get into new and strange things.  Our 
parents let her do what she liked because she was the oldest daughter.  
They kept an eye on her,  however, to make sure nothing...bad ever 
happened."
	I looked at the photograph- it was of Dana and Melissa Scully 
standing on a pier, a battleship moored in the background.  She was of 
same height but lighter build than her sister- and like her sister, she was 
nice.
	"Now something has?"  I asked, keeping the picture in my hand.  Scully 
nodded.
	"We haven't heard from her since last week.  She went to a party 
with Vince and didn't return."
	"You should go to the police about this."
	"That's what I told my parents.  It wasn't unusual for Melissa to go 
off and spend a night or two at a friends without telling us, but...my 
parents were going to the police when..."  Scully pulled a piece of paper 
from her purse, "this came in today's post."
	I took the plain slip of paper from her hand.  The note was written in 
an angular, sloping scrawl, an unsteady hand, and read:
		
	I've seen the bright light and now I must follow!  Vince leads me to 
the stars-  Farewell, Melissa.

	"It's her writing."
	"This all sounds pretty kooky to me,"  I growled, tossing the note 
back to Scully.  "Who's this Vince character?  Boyfriend?"
	Scully's eyes hardened and she glared at me.  "Not exactly...Melissa 
had been spending a lot of time with Vince Drake."  Dana Scully sat silent for 
a beat, then began to finger the voodoo doll I had sitting on my desk- a 
memento from a previous case.  When she looked up at me her eyes were 
sharp.  "Have you heard of him?"
	I had.  But I didn't think she knew what I knew about Drake.  So I 
played dumb.  "The bootlegger?  Yeah, I've heard of him."
	"I thought you would,"  Scully tossed back, and I wondered if she did 
know more.  But more importantly, I wondered what her beef about me 
was, and said so.	
	"If you think so little of me Miss Scully, then why haven't you just 
taken your story to the police?"  I hazarded a guess, "Why defy your 
parents' wishes?"
	Scully's gray eyes shot icicles.  "Like I said before, I look forward to 
working with you.  Even though you have a reputation for...the 
unconventional, I believe that you can help us more than the police.  I have 
a hard time believing in some of the things my sister believes in, but...you 
won't."
	I must have flinched at that point, but if I did, Scully didn't seem to 
notice.
	"Vincent Drake is a...persuasive man," she continued.  "He's probably 
done something to my sister.  Coerced her, threatened her, something."  
Her eyes grew fearful for a moment and she leaned in over the desk to lock 
her eyes with mine.  "I don't like thinking about what that something could 
be."  She moved back into her chair and her eyes regained their cool.  "I 
want to believe that there's a rational explanation for her 
disappearance...but I have yet to see it.  Will you help me?"
	Her gray eyes never wavered from my face.  I said, "That's why they 
put the 'eye' in 'private eye'."

	Ms. Scully said good-night after I got some more information from 
her;  a list of her sister's friends and favorite hangouts.  That list made for 
some interesting reading.
	There were a few of the usual cons and thugs, minor hoodlums like 
Sharpy Fink and Big Boy Jake.  But they weren't nearly as numerous 
compared to Vince Drake and his men.
	Now, when I told Scully that Drake was a bootlegger, that was the 
truth- he was one of the biggest in the city.  What neither of us voiced, 
however, was that Drake was also rumored to be the leader of a strange 
society who called themselves the Chosen.  His name being spilled was 
enough to pique my interest.  And when I heard that the Orchid Club was 
one of Melissa's favorite night spots,  I was sure that this wasn't an 
ordinary missing daughter case.  I'd run down the other leads, but my 
instinct told me that the Chosen were probably responsible for Melissa's 
disappearance.  And considering Melissa's obvious tastes in the exotic and 
unusual, I figured she'd probably gotten herself immersed into this cult.  
They were supposed to hold their meetings every Wednesday at the 
Orchid.
	I told Scully only that I planned to check out this Vince fellow and that 
he was our best lead.  We agreed to meet at the Orchid Club tomorrow 
night;  she had insisted that I wouldn't be able to spot these characters 
without her help.  She was obviously asking for excitement, but I'd be sure 
to dump her in a shady spot before any tussles broke out.

	The next day had me ringing doorbells, following up on the list of 
names Dana Scully had given me.  I received plenty of no's to my questions 
so when my list reached bottom, I decided to stop at Mickey's.
	"Frank,"  I said, catching the attention of the rotund bartender, "have 
you seen Blinky?"
	"Sure,"  snorted Frank, "he's where he usually is."
	I moved away with a wave of thanks, and headed for the storeroom 
in the back.
	
	Blinky was there all right, a small pasty-skinned man, dozing 
comfortably in the murky darkness of the bar's cramped storage room.  I 
shook his shoulder and as he blinked into consciousness noticed his pupils 
were large black pits.  No wonder he stayed in the dark most of his time.
	"Come on, you hop-head,"  I said roughly, pulling him to his feet.
	"Whattya want?"  he said gruffly, then his eyes focused upon me.  
"Oh sure, anything for you, boss."
	I sat on a crate labeled "Soda Water," which probably contained 
hooch, and kept my informant well in sight.
	"What's the word on the street, Blinky?"  I waited patiently as Blinky 
tried to come up with the answer he thought I'd want to hear.  I'd used him 
in the past as a source of information and found him to be fairly reliable.  
He was a frequenter of all of the seedy joints in town and had a good ear 
for conversations that were none of his business.  He also knew that 
correct information meant money to keep him supplied with his dope.  
More importantly, I knew that Blinky had been a runner for Drake's until his 
habit forced him to quit that work- his nerves were too raw.
	"Well...Drake's on the move," he offered hopefully.
	"Oh yeah?" I said, trying not to sound too interested in that piece of 
news.
	"Yeah,"  Blinky replied, warming up to the topic.  "He's got a shipment 
of rum coming in..."  he paused and held out a hand.  "It'll cost ya."
	I pulled out a fiver and held it where he could see it.  "Tell me,"  I said.
	Blinky licked his dry lips and, seeing I wouldn't give in, continued.  "It 
was supposed to come in two nights ago, but some dame messed up the 
connection.  Now it's comin' in tonight."  Blinky lunged for his pay but I held 
him off with the toe of my foot.
	"What dame?"  I asked carefully.
	"I dunno, some dame.  They say,"  he laughed nervously, "they say 
he's gonna use her for some sorta ceremony.  Come on, I've spilled!"
	I handed him his dough and he scuttled out of the room to find the 
nearest dealer.  I sat and pushed my brains around a bit.  If the dame Blinky 
mentioned was Melissa, and she probably was, then I'd have to find her 
that night.  It was Tuesday and if a ceremony was going to be held, then it 
would be for the Chosen the following evening.  And who knew what would 
happen then.
	
	The Orchid was a speakeasy resting on the fringes of Chinatown.  
When I arrived at eight o'clock, the place was already alive with beaded and 
bedecked patrons.  Dana Scully waited for me outside the entrance, 
wrapped in a long green cloak.  I stepped up and took her arm while her 
eyes moved up and down my scrawny frame.
	"Do you think I should have worn my pinstripe?" I said, noticing that I 
was the only man not dressed in evening wear.  "I've been pounding the 
pavement all day Ms. Scully, and didn't have time to change out of my day-
suit."
	Scully smiled thinly and didn't look surprised.  We eased through the 
door and entered the dimly lit club as I quickly filled her in on my days' non-
successes.  I discreetly kept all I had learned from Blinky under my hat, 
however.
	The Orchid was a speakeasy of speakeasies;  smoke fogged what 
light was gleaming off the tiny stage in the center of the room.  Those 
who favored the dark had plenty of shadowy corners to hide in while they 
conducted their business.  I saw quite a few familiar faces and took note of 
them in case I had a chance to come back with, say, fifty armed officers.  
This club was no playground.
	Scully seemed to sense it too, and clutched my arm a bit tighter.
	"Anyone look familiar?"  I whispered.  She shook her head, no.  We 
moved to a table near the dance floor and took our seats.  A shifty-eyed 
blonde came up to us and asked sullenly, "Drinks?"
	"Gin and tonic,"  Scully said, taking the cloak off her shoulders.  A 
heavy bulge in an inner pocket alerted me to the fact that Ms. Scully was 
packing some heat.  And by the weight of it, it was no nickel-plated popgun.
	"None for me,"  I said, and the blonde edged away.
	Scully finished arranging her cloak on the back of her chair and I 
realized what a bad idea it was to bring her here.  Not only was her silvery 
low-backed dress causing eyes to turn, but it wouldn't be hard for her red 
hair to be matched with Melissa's.  I was about to voice my worries when 
Dana signaled me with her eyes.
	From behind the small stage a blond haired, square-jawed Goliath 
emerged.  He was dressed sharply in a dark suit and moved with self-
assurance through the room.  I didn't let the big man's lumbering size fool 
me- there was a menacing intelligence behind those glittering black eyes.
	"Vince,"  Scully said simply, under her breath.  Then before I could stop 
her, she had snagged the big man's arm.
	"Vince Drake?  I'm Dana.  Dana Scully."
	Vince smiled warmly as faint recognition registered on his broad 
features.  "Ah, Dana.  How's things?"  He didn't even bother to look in my 
direction.
	"I want to know where Melissa is."
	"Melissa?  Haven't seen her."  The big man was lying, but he knew he 
wasn't fooling us.
	"Dana..."  I began, trying to calm her.
	"Who's this wriggler?"  Vince sneered, jerking a thumb in my direction.
	"A friend of Ms. Scully,"  I replied, pushing my chair back.  I could feel 
the room shrinking and prepared myself to grab Dana's wrist and make for 
the nearest exit.  "Answer her question."
	"Like I said, I haven't seen her."
	Dana took a step closer to Vince, whispering so the giant had to lean 
down to hear her.
	"How would you like me to tell the police about your upcoming 
transaction down at the pier tonight?"
	Drake's face turned ugly and I reached for my gun.  All around I could 
hear the scraping sound of chairs being pushed to the wayside.  Guns 
blossomed in the hands of those around us and realized that now was not 
the time to be heroic.  Vince neatly plucked my automatic from it's 
shoulder holster and hefted it in his meaty paw.
	"I don't think you'll be in the position to tell the cops anything,"  he 
snarled menacingly.  
	"We'll just be on our way,"  I said lightly, reaching for Dana's cloak and 
the gun I knew was hidden there.  If I could take Drake by surprise maybe 
Scully and I could leave the place in one piece. 
	Scully's eyes were wide as I eased the velvety fabric over her 
shoulders.  Not a person in the room budged an inch as I went through 
these motions- time seemed to stop.  As my hand drifted over the bulge 
in the green cloak I heard Vince say, "Now."  Scully lunged for his arm as I 
tried, unsuccessfully, to block the fat automatic that came rushing toward 
my forehead.  I remember the coolness of the metal as it struck my skull 
and then everything went black...

DANA - Part II  by Peggy Li, Feb. 2 1995

	My vision blurred and I squinted.  There was a bright light shining into 
my eyes from a bare bulb hanging closely overhead.  The last thing I could 
remember was my black automatic making an imprint on my forehead...
	Someone was monkeying with my wounds and when I finally opened 
my eyes and kept them open, I was looking into Dana Scully's worried face.
	"Quit it,"  I said, pushing away her hand.
	"You're hurt," she said, ignoring my protest and dabbing at my head 
again with the corner of her cloak.  "You probably have a concussion."
	"What are you, a doctor?"  I replied, trying to prop myself into a 
sitting position.
	"As a matter of fact, I am," she answered, all seriousness.  I believed 
her.  "You hit the parquet pretty badly."
	"A real swan dive?"  I replied, trying to ease tensions.  We were inside a 
tiny room with funny sloping walls.  "You should see me dance sometime."  
Scully rolled her eyes and I bumped my head as I tried to straighten up.
	"My brain must be sloshing back and forth inside my head," I 
complained as I tried to get my bearings.
	"That's not your head;  we're on a boat," my doctor informed me.
	"What happened?"
	"After he knocked you out we were both taken to the marina and 
loaded onto this ship.  I don't know where they're taking us."
	I knew.  "Can you swim?"  I asked.  Scully looked at me strangely, then 
the realization about our situation began to dawn on her.  "And we have 
you to thank for this predicament."
	"Me?!"
	"Sure, why the hell did you provoke the man?  All I wanted to do 
tonight was case the joint and there you were, starting a brawl on his turf, 
using me as your padding between him and his .38!"  It was no good to yell 
at her at this point, but I hated it when I got knocked around.  She 
obviously had no sympathy for me, however.
	"Well, some help you were," she fumed. "I've never seen a man give 
up his gun so easily!  And that's locked."  I was trying to open the hatch 
above our heads.  I didn't know what was worse- being on this joy-ride or 
being sewn up down in the hold with this red-headed know-it-all.  At this 
point I wouldn't have minded being down with the fishes!
	"You had a gun, why didn't you use it?"  I shot back.
	"Because I needed to know first if he had Melissa."
	"Well, now we know he does or he wouldn't have risked taking the 
both of us out here."  I remembered something from the club.  "How did 
you know about Drake's rum shipment?  How much..."
	I didn't get to finish my questions as the hatch above our heads was 
opened and hands reached in and pulled us up on deck.
	"Come on, you lovebirds," a thin, hatchet faced man with a short 
crew-cut prodded us to the rail of the ship with a nasty-looking sawed off 
shotgun.  The cool night breeze and ocean spray hit my face and my eyes 
could just make out through the thick fog the lights on Alcatraz.
	"You're making a huge mistake,"  Scully began, and then I felt a shove 
at my back and the black waters were rushing towards me.

	We both landed with a crash and there was an immediate chill that 
spread through my entire body.  Kicking off my shoes, I swam over to 
where Scully treaded water, teeth chattering.
	"You okay?"  I asked.
	"Suu-rr-e,"  Scully replied, lips trembling.  "Just dandy."
	The boat had already been swallowed into the mist but to my left I 
could hear the bellow of Alcatraz's foghorn.  Orienting myself to the sound, 
I tried to sound optimistic.
	"Keep moving.  We can swim to the island."  Scully did her best to nod 
and we both began making strokes towards the sound of the foghorn.  We 
both knew that we could also run into the ferry lanes- or get run over by a 
ferry.  In any case, we had nothing to lose by trying to get from where we 
were to somewhere better.
	"Is the current pulling us toward the Golden Gate?"  asked Scully.
	"Don't waste your breath,"  I replied, grimly.  We were being swept 
out of the bay and into the ocean, but I figured we'd worry about that in 
due course.
	I don't know how many minutes past- even the cold wasn't 
bothering me as much.  In fact, all my limbs were in a pleasant state of 
numbness and I couldn't feel them moving anymore.  I glanced behind me 
to see Scully beginning to lag behind.  Turning around, I swam up to her and 
grabbed her just as her eyes began to close.
	"Don't,"  I said, struggling to hold up both our bodies in the lashing 
waves.
	"I'm so tired,"  Scully murmured, floating over onto her back.  I let her 
rest for the moment, and fought to keep awake myself.  Everything out 
there on the water was peaceful, serene.  The foghorn blared again, closer 
this time, but I ignored it.  All I wanted to do was stay floating there, quiet, 
cushioned in the fog.  I was warm even, warmth creeping up through my 
limbs...I pushed Scully up to the surface of the water one more time 
before she began to sink again and began to settle in myself, when a 
spotlight glared into my eyes.
	"Go away," I said angrily, thrashing my hands at the oncoming lights.  
"Go away!"  I yelled, and then for the second time that night my mind shut 
down and I lost consciousness...

	When I came to, a grizzled old ferry conductor was rubbing my ankles 
and saying excitedly,
	"We almost ran you down!  What'd ya do, fall off a yacht?"
	I glanced around quickly and saw Dana seated next to me, cocooned 
in a blanket and sipping some tea.
	"Are you okay?"  I said, noting that she looked as bad as I felt.  She 
simply jerked her head, once, and clutched at her cup.  "What ferry are we 
on?"  I asked the conductor, shaking him off my person.
	"Sausalito to San Francisco.  We're docking in 'Cisco in a few minutes."
	"Great,"  I said, my head beginning to throb.
	Once we docked, I waved off the ferry conductor's protests and 
hailed a taxi.  I kept Scully close to my side and told her, "I'm taking you to 
the hospital."
	"No!"  Scully replied, her skin still pale, "We don't have time for that.  
Slight case of hypothermia..."
	I couldn't persuade her otherwise and grudgingly told the driver to 
take us to my place.  As the driver pulled away from the ferry building, 
Scully placed her head on my shoulder and promptly closed her eyes.  "Let 
me sleep now," she said, "but make sure to wake me when we get there."
	
	My apartment was on the second floor, but when we got there I just 
carried Scully to my room and placed her on the couch before racing back 
down to pay the cab.  When I returned, Scully was still out and I felt panic 
rising to my throat.
	"Hey,"  I said, rubbing her hands and drawing another blanket around 
her shoulders, "Scully...Dana.  Wake up."  She stirred and I hurried to the 
kitchen for a glass of brandy and to start a pot of coffee.  When I stepped 
back into the living room, Scully was just beginning to sit up.
	"Look, I think we should take you to a hospital..."
	"No, I'm all right.  Just a bit winded."
	Scully looked anything but all right, but I didn't have the energy to 
argue with her.  I handed her the brandy which she took gratefully, and 
poured myself one, too.
	"Do you have something dry I can wear?"  she asked, after the color 
began to come back into her cheeks.
	"Sure," I said, moving towards the bedroom, "Let me change in there 
and then I'll throw you something."
	Scully nodded and I ducked inside the room.  After dressing quickly 
into a dry pair of slacks and a clean shirt, I found a blue shirt I had that was 
on the smallish side and a pair of soft pajama bottoms.  I also grabbed a 
towel and moved back into the living room.
	Dana seemed much better;  she hadn't gotten off the couch, but 
was going through the papers I had on my coffee table.  "Is this your 
sister?"  she asked, holding up a worn photograph.  I simply handed her the 
stuff and said,  "The bathroom is just inside the bedroom.  I hope this fits."
	"Do you ever use your bed?"  Scully asked, motioning to the pillow 
and blanket I always kept on my couch.
	"Nope,"  I replied, "I always sleep out here."  Scully laughed, and I knew 
then that she was definitely feeling better.  "What's so funny?"
	"Nothing.  It just seems like something a detective would do."  She 
picked up the clothes and stepped into the bedroom.  When she re-
emerged, she had a towel wrapped around her head and had found my 
bathrobe as well.
	"I want to thank you," she said, sitting back down on the couch.
	"What for?" I replied, pouring us both cups of hot coffee.
	"For saving my life."
	I said nothing, and handed her a cup.  Dana pursed her lips and then 
said,  "What do we do now?"
	I eased my battered body into the nearby armchair.  "We wait.  If 
Vince has your sister, she's probably being held at the Orchid.  He has a 
shipment to pick up tonight;  when he goes to the docks we'll head for the 
club.  It's ten-thirty now...the drop off is at midnight."
	"How can you be so sure?"
	"In the movies the drop is always at midnight."  I smiled,  "These 
bootleggers aren't very original in their thinking."
	Scully nodded and tucked her legs underneath her.  I didn't have the 
heart to tell her at that moment that she wouldn't be a part of this 
rescue.  I thought I'd let her just take it easy for now.  In the meantime, 
some questions were still tugging at the corner of my mind.
	"How did you know that Vince was expecting a shipment tonight?"  I 
asked, sipping my coffee.
	"Simple.  Melissa told me that every Wednesday Drake had a special 
party at the Orchid.  She said that they always had gallons of liquor for 
these events.  Vince called them 'special brews.'  I figured that it would have 
to arrive tonight."
	"You mean you guessed?"  I couldn't believe we had almost gotten 
killed for someone's hunch.
	"Well, all the evidence pointed to it."
	"Oh," I grumbled, sinking further into my seat.  
	We sat in silence for a minute or two;  Scully stared into her coffee 
cup while I watched her, wondering how a pretty, intelligent career woman- 
a doctor!- could so readily jump into danger.  All this was going through my 
head when Scully once again reached for the photo on the coffee table.
	"You never did tell me who this was," she inquired with a raised 
eyebrow.
	"My sister,"  I replied, standing.  "More coffee?"
	"Your sister?"  Scully echoed, smiling at the picture.  "What's her 
name?"
	"Her name was Samantha," I said, hoping she would drop the subject.
	"Oh.  I'm sorry."  Scully gently replaced the photo where she had 
found it.  "What happened?"
	I felt distinctly uncomfortable discussing my sister, but there was 
something about Dana Scully, something that made me want to trust her.  
Maybe because we had both lost someone we loved.
	"She- she disappeared.  When I was twelve."
	"Kidnapped?"
	"No...someone...something...took her away."
	Scully nodded as if she understood.  At least, she didn't ask me to 
explain myself.  So then I spilled it, the whole story.  All my theories, all my 
beliefs;  how Samantha's disappearance tore my family apart, the works.  I 
finished exploring my innards with the final statement, "I know that she's 
out there.  Or someone's out there who knows what happened to her."
	My ranting and raving had brought me up close to Scully, kneeling by 
her side- her eyes were now a deep blue.  I could feel my breaths coming in 
hard gasps and my head pounded more than ever.  But she didn't back 
away from me.  Or say she didn't believe me.  Only looked down and fiddled 
with the sash on the robe, twisting it with her fingers.
	"I understand how hard it can be, losing your sister."  she said at last.  
"I can see how you'd want to become a detective, to find out the truth."  
When she looked up at me her blue-green eyes were gleaming, "I want to 
find the truth too.  Just like you."
	I shook my head, feeling a lump forming in the back of my throat.  
"I'm still looking," I managed, "I know the truth is out there.  And I want to 
believe..."  I let my voice trail off.  Dana stood, suddenly, and leaned closer 
to me.  She placed her hand on my shoulder for a fleeting instant, then 
said, "More coffee?"
	I nodded dumbly and handed her my cup.  As she moved into the 
kitchen I promised, "We'll find your sister."  At that instant, I knew that I 
couldn't leave Scully behind.  She turned and smiled at me gently.  I felt a 
great stirring deep inside- it was hilarious, a hardened investigator like 
myself getting all turned inside-out by one woman's smile.  The strange 
thing was, I really didn't mind it.

	At eleven thirty we hailed a taxi and headed for the Orchid Club.
	Rather than squeeze back into her fancy dress, Scully had gone to 
my neighbor's and borrowed a pair of trousers that would fit her, albeit 
with a belt cinching up the waist.  Fred had taken one look at Dana, dressed 
in my blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with my bathrobe around her 
waist, and winked at me.  I told the joker to go back to bed and that I'd 
explain later.
	"Seeing you had one earlier this evening, I suppose you know how to 
handle one of these?"  I held out my .38 special to Dana.  "You've got 
pockets, you might as well use 'em."
	Scully picked up the weapon, getting the feel of it in her hand before 
sliding it into her pants pocket.  "Thanks.  I've always wanted one of these."
	"Don't mention it,"  I grumbled, re-checking my own piece twice 
before putting it into my shoulder holster.  This girl was really beginning to 
grow on me.  And what I needed to do was concentrate on the problems 
at hand.  Believe me, it wasn't easy work.
	I had the taxi drop us off a block away from the club, on the street 
running past the back of it.  All was quiet;  Drake must've pulled all his men 
with him to pick up the shipment.  Something in it must've been mighty 
important for him to do that.
	"Come on," I whispered, making my way carefully along the street to 
the Orchid's back entrance.
	We pressed ourselves against the chilly brick near the doorway, our 
breath making clouds in the night air.  I reached into my pocket for the keys 
I had lifted from Blinky when he had walked passed me as Scully glanced 
around nervously.
	"Where'd you get those?" she whispered as I tried each key one by 
one.
	"Detective school," I replied as the lock gave way with a satisfying 
clink.  Easing the door open, we could hear the tinny music filtering down 
from the front room.
	"Don't they ever go home?"  Scully groused.
	"They're probably all asleep under the tables,"  I answered, closing the 
door gently behind us.  "Looks like the kitchen is to the right..."
	"So we go left," Scully breathed, sliding noiselessly past me.  I followed 
her down the narrow hallway and had to admit to myself- Scully seemed 
to have a knack for this sleuthing business.  Her eyes gleamed green as we 
crept from shadow to shadow.
	We passed the curtains that hung behind the stage and a couple of 
empty dressing rooms, finally stopping at a door at the end of the hallway.  
I motioned for Scully to get behind me and listened at the door.  Silence.  
Turning the knob, I found to my surprise that it was unlocked.  I followed 
though, pushing my way through the doorway to find a room devoid of 
furniture.  A dressing curtain partitioned off a corner of the room and a 
small bundle of clothes lay in the other.
	"Melissa!"  Dana cried, moving towards the inert figure.  Quickly, I shut 
the door behind us and then moved to Scully's side.
	Dana turned her face to mine, her features alive with fear.  "She's 
barely breathing," she informed me.

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.  "Now, do I keep calling you Mulder, or shall I call you Fo..."
	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.