NOTICE: Deslea's URL is now

http://fiction.deslea.com. Email address

is now deslea@deslea.com or drjudd@catholic.org.

This information supercedes all other

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Bermuda Fragments *PG13* 1/1

Deslea R. Judd

drjudd@tig.com.au drjudd@catholic.org

Copyright 1999


This work is based on The X Files, a creation of

Chris Carter owned by him, Twentieth Century

Fox, and Ten-Thirteen Productions. All

characters mentioned remain the intellectual

property of those parties and are used without

their consent and without commercial gain.


I have no medical or geographical expertise.

The extent of my knowledge of Bermuda, Nova

Scotia, Yukon, and Alaska may be found in

Encarta 97 or Britannica. Don't base your

thesis on it.

Archive: OK to archive/forward without


Spoilers/Timeframe: Triangle (6x03).

Category: Story, Romance (Skinner/Scully).

Rating: PG13 for non-explicit sex.

Summary: While in Bermuda after rescuing

Mulder, Scully and Skinner discover one another.

But a plot against them forces them to leave one

life behind and start another....

Author's note: The style in this story varies

from detailed to fragmentary in an effort to

convey a life disintegrating, then being

rebuilt. It's an experiment. Let me know if it

works or simply annoys. Want more of my



Bermuda Fragments *PG13* 1/1

Deslea R. Judd



Copyright 1999


Hamilton Hospital (Outside Ward 2: Acute)

Hamilton, Great Bermuda

Monday, 6.24pm

At Scully's approach, he rose. "How is


Dropping down exhaustedly on the chair at

his side, she snorted. "Delirious as ever. The

jerk even said he loved me."

Skinner looked up, startled. "He probably

does," he said reluctantly. He met her gaze.

She waved this aside with a gesture, not

without compassion. "I'm aware of that, of

course. But he wouldn't say it if he weren't

delirious. He knows I don't love him." She

sighed. "I do hope he doesn't remember when he

comes around. I said something like 'Oh,

brother' - height of sensitivity, there."

Skinner raised an eyebrow. "You don't love

him? Seriously?" he queried with frank


She smiled faintly. "I love him like a

mother loves a child. That's what he is, you

know; a child. He's not - he's not for me. Not

that way."

Still dubious, he said softly,


She looked amused. "Skinner - Walter," she


He gave a slight smile at that. "Dana, you

were frantic. You were incredibly rude to AD

Kersh, to his secretary, to my secretary, to

Spender." She started to apologise, but he held

up a hand. "Now, I have very little time for

either Kersh or Spender, and both those

secretaries bug the shit out of me. I'm quite

certain mine is a plant. But it's not like you

to be rude. In fact, the only time I've known

you to behave that way was when you threw your

weight around at the hospital when I was shot -

for which," he added, "I was quite honoured."

His voice lowered. "Dana, you were barely sane.

It looked - it looked like love."

She nodded. "That's true. All I could

think of was that I was going to find him, throw

my arms around him, then slug him for what he

did to us."

"To us?" he queried, wondering who was

meant. It sounded like he, Skinner, was meant -

but surely not? His heart began to race, the

adrenaline pumping. For a fleeting moment he

felt almost primal, assessing the threat before

him. Suddenly he didn't know what - who - he

was dealing with.

She shrugged, her voice introspective, as

though she had forgotten he was there. "Just

because I was frantic didn't mean I didn't

understand the gravity of what I was asking of

you. Your job, your pension - I'm not oblivious

to those realities. But I had to ask anyway."

She bowed her head. "I felt very pressured when

I came to see you; but I only became really

agitated when you refused to help me. It -

rocked me. I went on blind fear after that -

not only for Mulder, but for me." She whispered

with reluctant reproach, "You'd - I *thought*

you'd abandoned me."

His tone was gentle, his tentative touch on

her shoulder compassionate. "I don't begrudge

you asking, Scully. But you were silly to do it

in my office. You must realise it's bugged."

She gave a shamefaced laugh. "I wasn't


"I gathered that from your behaviour in the

elevator," he

retorted with a twinkle. That hammering in his

chest was still there; but the tenseness there


Scully smiled, too; but she quickly

sobered. "I hurt you with that, didn't I?" she

asked. Her insight made him uncomfortable. His

eyes flashed. "You thought I was thanking you

for what saving Mulder meant to me. That I was

loving him."

He was silent, but his eyes were dark. He

nodded slightly. Finally, he said quietly, "It

was like you were kissing him. Your relief for

him, your pain and fear for him. It was all

there. When I-" he broke off.

"When you love me," she finished softly.

"I know that. I've always known." He swallowed

a gasp, not only at her knowledge but also at

her matter-of-fact discussion of it. She went

on, "It wasn't that. I was thanking you for

what you did for *me* - not him. For what your

putting yourself on the line meant to *me*.

You-" she stopped.

She meant well, that was the worst thing.

She was trying to acknowledge him, to value him.

She felt sorry for him. He couldn't bear it if

she kept speaking! He put up a hand. "Don't do

this, Dana. Please don't."

She met his gaze, suddenly understanding,

her eyes flashing with sudden passion. "Do you

really think I would have kissed Kersh if he'd

helped me? Spender? Please, I have some

standards." He laughed outright at that, and

she joined him. She sobered. "Mulder was not

what was in my heart when I kissed you. You


He looked suddenly vulnerable. "Dana-" he

uttered, then fell silent.

Scully touched his hand with tenderness.

"I'm not a fool, Walter. Everything you do for

us - you wouldn't do it for Mulder alone. Not

because you don't care, but because you know as

well as I do that he's going to self-destruct

sooner or later, and you'd just as soon not go

down with him. Believe me, I know the feeling."

He made a small, fleeting sound of mirth. "It's

always been about me. I know that."

Skinner's voice was thick with pain.

"Dana, even if everything you say is true -" at

her scornful look, he said, "all right, of

course it's true - there's nothing to be done.

We - Mulder, the Bureau - there's just nothing

to be done."

"There's this," she retorted, and gently

kissed his lips.


Somerset Atlantic Hotel (Room 2.07)

Somerset Island, Bermuda

Monday, 8.12pm

He locked the door, and turned to her, his

lips parted.


She went to him, leaned up to him, her

mouth forming an exquisite smile in the dark;

but he stopped, barely touching her. His lips

brushing her, he whispered thickly, "I've waited

so long for this."

The naked need and adoration in his voice

made her heart swell with an uncommon

compassion; one that was searingly painful. She

rocked against him with sudden helplessness.

Her palms cradled his cheeks. "Oh, Walter,

don't you know I love you? I was only waiting

for you to tell me. Why did you never tell me?"

He shook his head helplessly, the joy of

her exquisitely painful in its intensity. The

desire in his body was urgent, but his need for

her was overpowering. Her compassion, her

empathy, the love that was clear within her

danced in his soul and wrenched at his heart all

at once. He breathed desperately, "I will never

hide from you again."

Her sweet mouth was on his. "There will

never be a need."

Body against body, soul against soul.

A joining, a parting. Was this why he felt

so empty? Because they had been one, and now

they were two once more? Because an essential

part of himself was lost when the union had


//They became one flesh.//

The old scripture passed through his mind,

gone as quickly as it had come; but it was apt.

They belonged to one another now. Once together

they would never again feel whole apart. A

single night, a single joining; but when two

joined in soul, joined in body it could not be


And in this fact, whatever else lay ahead,

he rejoiced.

With a prayer of thanks and another of

plea, he slept.

Arch of a neck; scent of the sea in her

hair and her sweat.


He murmured, "Say it again."

Sound of loving indulgence. "Walter."

Then, mischievously, "Sir."

He gave a shout of laughter. "I couldn't

believe it, Dana. You threw me against a wall

and kissed me, and then you called me Sir."

Their laughter rang out, and it warmed his

heart. He spoke. "Dana, everything I've ever

prayed for is here, in us."

"For me, too, Walter. I've been so alone,

and I've loved you so much." She gave him a

gentle kiss, her tone brightening. "Nothing can

spoil this day! Spender could call today and it

wouldn't spoil this day."

But on that score, she was wrong.

Hamilton Hospital (Cafeteria)

Hamilton, Great Bermuda

Tuesday, 9.17am

"Agent Scully."

"Byers? What is it?"

An awkward look. It came to her - he was

the unlucky delegate of the Gunmen. "We -

Langly saw you and Skinner yesterday. You - I'm

sorry to be personal; this is not our business."

He shifted uncomfortably. "You love each


"You're right, it isn't your business."

Her tone was harsh; but at his wounded

expression, she relented. "But there are no

secrets among friends, I suppose. Yes, we do."

Silence a moment; then, compassionately,

"You have to tell Mulder."

Scully felt something in her heart twist

with pain. "I don't want to hurt him."

He smiled faintly. "Unrequited love he can

cope with. The humiliation of finding out some

other way, you not trusting him with the truth -

that, no."

She bowed her head. "You must think me


He touched her shoulder with affection.

"For having a life of your own? For loving a

good man? No. Just a little jealous." Faint

smile. "Be at peace, Scully."

Kiss on the cheek, and then they parted.

Hamilton Hospital (Ward 3: Sub-Acute)

Hamilton, Great Bermuda

Tuesday, 10.03am


"It's been brewing for a while now,


Flicker of pain. "You love him." It

wasn't a question.

"Yes, I love him." Then, gently, "I'm

sorry, Mulder.

"I don't want - I can't bear to be alone,


A gentle sound of warmth from behind them,

then a large, gentle hand on his shoulder.

"We're not leaving you, old friend. Try to

think of it as gaining two caretakers instead of

losing one. Although at the rate you need them

perhaps we ought to adopt a few teenagers as


Gentle laughter, then sudden tears.

"Please go. I can't-"

But then there were arms around him, arms

of a woman and a man, and he felt loved, and he

was comforted.


Somerset Atlantic Hotel (Restaurant)

Somerset Island, Bermuda

Tuesday, 2.46pm

The phone call.

"You're a rude arrogant little bitch,


"Spender?" she said incredulously.

The voice continued, heedless. "But it's

not my wish to see you killed. Out of my hair

is sufficient for my liking."

"What's happened, Spender?"

"I heard Fowley talking - to *him*. This

Bermuda thing is the last straw. He's going to

have you liquidated as soon as you step back on

American soil - all three of you, and those Lone

Geeks of yours, as well." The younger man's

voice faltered then, his bravado gone. "You

can't come home. Please, Scully; stay away."

Hamilton Hospital (Ward 3: Sub-Acute)

Hamilton, Great Bermuda

Tuesday, 4.12pm

The confirmation.

The six of them sat nervously in Mulder's

room, waiting. Skinner was speaking.

"I have known for some time that this would

happen sooner or later. I have been gradually

moving my money overseas. Cash is not a

problem, either for our escape or for getting

ourselves started again. What is going to be

difficult is getting off this cluster of islands

and back to the States."

Mulder spoke. "Do you think it's wise to

return to the States, Sir?"

Langly interjected, "Foolish not to. We

all have citizenship and rights in the US. We

don't have those anywhere else. We can't use

our own credentials, of course; but we can get

false ones easily enough. Skinner here has one

already." At Skinner's infuriated look at his

knowledge, Langly just laughed. "And Byers,

Frohike and I have underground contacts in the

US. We know the government computer systems.

We can hack where we need to, get help when we

need it. We can't do those things elsewhere.

We don't know the encryption protocols for many

other places, certainly nowhere we have


Scully nodded slowly. "Okay, so we go back

to the US. But how and where?"

"Somewhere isolated," Langly offered.

"Somewhere primitive - basic facilities,

but not a large city." That from Byers.

"Somewhere we can live without creating too

much of a paper trail," contributed Frohike.

"Somewhere we can cross borders on foot

without detection," Scully offered.

"Somewhere with natural protection -

mountains or something."

Just as Mulder was about to speak,

Skinner's phone rang. They fell silent,

watching expectantly.

Skinner did not speak; but only listened.

When he rang off, there were five sets of eyes

on him. "Well?"

"We're on the Customs list for detainment.

It's true."

Scully spoke for the five of them. "What



Unknown Bermuda Island

2 miles west of Harrington Sound, Bermuda

Wednesday, 5.12am

The helicopter. Scully pointed.

"There, Walter. Just there. The fourth

island along."

Skinner turned to her, aghast. "That's not

an island; it's a bit of oversized coral for

God's sake!"

She said urgently, "You said it yourself,

Walter. It's the only island that's both

uninhabited and out of sight of an inhabited

island, but still within swimming distance of

one. We have no choice!"

He gave a long, low sigh. "All right. All

right! Hold tight, everyone. We're going to

take a sharp dip."

Langly gave a shout, sound of an excited

child. "Hey, this is fun!" Nauseated sounds

from Frohike.

They landed with a thud on the beach.

Mulder was already halfway out the door. "Nice

landing, Baldy!" he called, jumping out.

Skinner made a snarling sound. Scully

called reprovingly, "Mulder, please don't tease

the animals." She yelped as Skinner gave her a

nudge in response.

Byers cleared his throat. He spoke, his

tone formal. "Thank you ladies and gentlemen;

we hope you enjoyed your ride. Please ensure

all your valuables, most especially those false

passports, are on your person as you depart."

Laughter as they went about their necessary


Scully had already strapped on her

lifejacket. Now, she opened her medical kit and

spoke to Mulder and Skinner, who lay near her on

the sand. "Ready, boys?" she said with warmth.

But the truth was none of them were ready

for what would follow.

Federal Bureau Of Investigation (AD Kersh's


J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, D.C.

Friday, 2.10pm

"You're sure?"

Spender met the older man's gaze.

"I inspected the wreckage myself, Sir. The

parachutes were burned, of course; but they were

definitely all accounted for. They couldn't

have survived. There was blood everywhere."

The smoker spoke, stepping in front of AD

Kersh to meet his son's unforgiving gaze.

"Blood, but no bodies. How can you be sure?"

"We've tested the blood. DNA from Mulder,

Scully and Skinner were all present," Spender

replied. "DNA for four other unknown males as

well, probably the three goons and the pilot.

In the case of Mulder and Skinner, definitely

too much blood for them to have lived. Scully

could possibly have survived, but not without

help and immediate medical attention. As for

the bodies, they were probably eaten or else

cremated beyond any recognition. There's a lot

of wildlife in the North Atlantic, and the fire

kept rescuers at bay for two days. I assure

you, Sir; they are all dead."

Kersh made a hurrumphing sound. "Well,

Skinner is ex-military. He's entitled to burial

- or, in the absence of remains, a memorial - at

Arlington National Cemetery, although I hate to

give the bastard the honour. Spender, you can

work with the family to see to that." Mystified

look. "Mulder and Scully I can understand, but

Skinner...stupid, stupid man."

The smoker spoke lazily. "Let it be a

lesson, Mr Kersh."

"There's no way I'd follow that path of

destiny," the darker man laughed.

A nod, a discarded cigarette; and the

smoker left.

And Spender thought sullenly, *But I


Far North Atlantic Ocean

Due East of Cape Sable, Nova Scotia

Saturday, 6.12am

"How are they?"

Scully checked Walter's IV. "They're both

fine, Langly. Spender sent us enough blood to

transfuse ten men, even after we lost one pack.

They'd be up and around already if we hadn't had

to do it so fast. If we'd had a week and had

been able to draw the blood incrementally

there'd have been no problem. But draining them

on the beach like that...they were losing faster

than I could keep up." She noted the bruises

under Mulder's eyes. "They'll both be weak for

a time, of course. We can't count on them for

any heroics."

Langly nodded slowly. "So what if we hit a

storm or something? This is a comfortable

enough boat for the open waters, but it's not an

ocean liner. If we have to abandon ship,

they'll die." He paused. "There's something

else, too. We're getting into Arctic waters

now. We could hit ice any day."

Scully nodded. "I've been thinking about

that. But I don't know that there's much we can

do. We can't go any further south - it's too

risky. And we have to be to the north of Nova

Scotia if we're to get ashore undetected. The

south has too many busy ports - we'd stick out

like a sore thumb."

"We'll just have to hope for the best,

then," Langly said softly.

Scully nodded. "How are the others doing?"

she asked.

"Byers is feeling the strain," Langly

confided. "He's the only one with enough

boating experience to handle the craft, as you

know. He's sleeping the barest minimum. He's

exhausted, he's emotionally drained, and he's

developing seasickness."

Scully frowned. "I am too," she said

quietly. "I normally tolerate the sea quite

well, but this trip has hit my system hard. I'm

keeping very little food down. I'm very tired."

"Well, we drained quite a bit of your

blood, too, Scully. And it's not exactly a

pleasure cruise, however comfortable the


"That's true, of course."

Langly seemed to hesitate, then said, "We

have contingency plans, Scully. Or at least one

plan. We know of a smuggler who operates in

this part of the world. It's not drugs," he

added at Scully's disapproving look. "It's

archaeological finds from Africa, stolen from

historic sites. We could contact him by the

satellite phone if we get into trouble. His

boat is an ex-Navy freighter. It could weather


"It's risky," Scully said cautiously.

"We know. That's why we haven't done it.

But we have it as an option if we hit trouble -"

he paused, glancing at Mulder and Skinner, "or

if they do."

She passed a hand over Walter's forehead

tenderly, then met Langly's gaze.

"I'll keep it in mind."

Far North Atlantic Ocean

Due East of Cape Breton, Nova Scotia

Saturday, 4.19pm

Scully fell into a chair in exhaustion.

They had encountered their first iceberg

eight hours earlier, then their first layers of

sheet ice atop the water. Within two hours they

were unable to safely move.

The final decision, like all of them, had

been left to her. It had been agonising. They

were equipped for this eventuality with kayaks,

but Mulder and Walter were not able to fend for

themselves. So she had instructed the Gunmen to

contact their friend.

Now, it seemed that the risk had paid off.

Aboard the Naval freighter, accommodations were

less comfortable but far safer. As an added

bonus, their friend's partner had paramedical

experience, relieving Scully so she could rest.

Likewise, Byers was fast asleep in the bunk to

her left.

Walter had finally seemed to stabilise. He

was still exhausted, as was Mulder; but she had

finally been able to cease the blood

transfusions. Now both men were on glucose and

saline drips, nothing more. Their recovery now

was merely a matter of time. The knife slashes

through which they had let their own blood were

finally healing.

As for Scully herself, she felt worse than

the men looked. She had dropped five pounds

within the week. She was throwing up almost

everything she ate, and she felt faint more and

more often. The five of them were depending on

her to lead them through like some Amazon

warrior, and she could hardly stand up. The

possibility that her cancer might be recurring

haunted her.

Now, she sat reflecting on what had been

lost. Her mother and brothers she would never

see again; nor her home. Her photographs of

Melissa and of Emily were there, and all her

monographs and papers. Even if she found some

way to retrieve those items and to inform her

family that she lived, physical contact would

never be possible.

Mulder seemed untroubled by this aspect of

their flight, and in view of his relationship

with Teena the last two years, that was not

surprising. The Gunmen, too, seemed resigned.

After all, they had each other. And it was

likely that they could one day safely return to

their old lives, which by definition had always

been lived well out of touch with the government

paper trail.

The only one who shared her grief was

Walter. He had a daughter, Adriana, born of his

union with Sharon. The girl was nineteen and

attending university in Switzerland, where she

had been schooled. Despite the distance, Walter

was close to her, and he was saddened by the

grief he knew he had brought upon her. They had

shared these things, grieving silently together

late at night.

Now, Scully smothered a heavy, anguished

sigh. She had to stay strong. She had been

silently elected their leader, their wordless

deferral to her their mandate. They were

counting on her, all of them, to nurture them

when they were faltering and to encourage them

to be strong, and to lead them out of their

exile back to their homeland.

If only it weren't so hard.


Cape Breton Islands National Park

Cape Breton, Nova Scotia

Sunday, 11.17pm

Nova Scotia.

The freighter lay fifteen miles back,

continuing on its own sordid path. Their

lifeboat was in ruins on the ice-capped rocks

behind them. Scully turned to face the men who

had made her their leader. Her eyes scanned

them, one by one.

Byers, boyish at the best of times, seemed

so very young. He had been badly bruised by

their voyage. Frohike seemed pale. He had

aged. Langly, invigorated by the stress, was

alert; but he had a hunted look in his eyes.

Mulder. Mulder, gaunt and a little lost;

for the death of Fox Mulder had robbed him of

purpose. What was he now, but a slightly

strange man with some peculiar ideas? What

place would there be in their new world for a

man like that?


Walter, thin and bruised. Walter, who had

lost his wife to their quest, and now his job,

his old life, and his daughter. Walter, who

loved her, and how she ached at the sight of him

like this, overwhelmed but not broken; humbled,

yet strong. How it hurt to see the red thin

line of the knife she herself had held to his

throat, wounding him, spilling his blood in

order to save him. How it hurt to remember her

own lips at that throat, caressing where soon

she must sear. How it hurt to remember his

body, strong and safe against hers, when it was

now ravaged by the havoc she and Mulder had

brought down on him.

Now, she turned away to face the land they

had embraced for their survival. The white,

cold blue of it stung her with its shocking

beauty. Not their homeland, but a way station

on the path to it. This was what was to replace

her mother, her brothers, her sister, her

daughter? It was so much more, so much greater

than anything she had done or had in that old

life; and yet it wasn't enough.

She wept without shame, first in silent

tears and then in racking sobs. She sank to her

knees. She wept for all that they had lost and

all that they had gained, and the futility of it

all, the knowledge that neither their old life

nor their new one would serve the truth which

they had held so dear. And in some silent way,

each of them wept with her and through her.

Byers started to go to her, but Skinner

gestured him to be still. "Let her be," he said

softly. "Let her grieve."

Scully was silent, still on her knees. At

last, she spoke. "I can't go on," she said

tonelessly. "I can't make it." Anguish - six

years of it.

Walter went to her then. He knelt at her

side, his hand on her shoulder. "You can, Dana.

And you will. Because you have to. We can't do

this without you. None of us could have done

any of this without you. You're our strength.

You can't give up, especially now-"

He broke off then, thinking of their

secret, the secret fear that lay between them,

but she understood. She nodded slowly, her head

high, the tears on her cheeks dried to powdery

flakes of ice. She swallowed hard, then, with a

deep breath, she rose.

"Let's go on."

And like an Amazon renewed, she led them.

Haines Junction (Edge of Kuane National Park)

Yukon, Canada

One Month Later

The four of them sat in silence.

Scully and Skinner had wandered off

together. At first they had all silently

believed that the couple were going somewhere to

make love, but then they had seen the two of

them walking in the distance. The remaining

group sat contemplatively.

"I can almost smell the USA," Byers said


"That Jersey air will do it every time,"

Mulder rejoined, and there was quiet laugher.

He went on, "I wish you'd continue on with us,

old friend." Frohike spoke. His voice was

gentle. "We can help you more easily from home,

Mulder. And someone has to continue the work."

Langly motioned with his head to the

figures in the distance. "Will you be okay

looking out for them?"

Mulder shrugged. "I'm used to being the

third wheel," he laughed somberly. His

expression cleared. "It will be okay. We've

always been a team. That hasn't changed."

Byers bowed his head. "We'll miss you,

Muldy. We go back a long way."

"Goes both ways, my man."

Frohike spoke, again taking his turn in

that strangely rhythmic way the three of them

did. "You take care of Scully, Fox," he said

simply. Mulder gave him an indulgent smile;


"Keep hanging in there, Mulder. And save a

spot for us in your igloo for Colonisation,"

Langly added with good humour.

"Will do. I'll even put in a computer


They were interrupted by Skinner's

approach. He was alone.

"Far be it from me to interfere with your

touching goodbye," he said, his tone gentle

despite the abruptness of his words, "but I

suspect it may be a little premature. There's

been an unexpected development." He sat down

among them. "It remains your decision,

gentlemen, but in light of this I hope you might

stay with us - at least for the first year." He

glanced back at Scully, who sat beneath a tree

some distance away, her stance peaceful. "God

knows we're going to need all the help we can


The Gunmen exchanged quick glances. Byers

spoke on their behalf, putting voice to the

dread that Mulder could not put into words.

"It's not her cancer, is it?"

Skinner shook his head. "No. We did

suspect so earlier, in Nova Scotia - but Dana is

quite sure now that that's not the case."

"But she is sick," Mulder said softly. "We

all know that."

Skinner frowned. "She is, but not in the

way you think. But quite frankly I don't know

what to make of it - or what to expect."

Mulder was the first to get it, followed by

the other three in quick, almost telepathic

succession. Four astonished voices produced the

same single sound. "How?"

Skinner shrugged helplessly. "We have no

idea. But whatever the explanation, this

changes things. We need to get somewhere safe.

Somewhere secluded, somewhere as far out of

sight as possible. The sorts of risks of a city

are now unacceptable." He glanced again at the

solitary figure beyond them. "We need you all,

Dana most especially. Please don't leave us."

Byers nodded slowly. "All right."

"So what now?"

Brooks Range Settlement

Gates Of The Arctic National Park, Arctic Alaska

Six Weeks Later


Isolation. Alone but for Mulder, the

Gunmen, and Walter; just as she had always been.

Their cabin lay far behind them.

And the priest.

They were covered in snow, a white lace

shawl over her head, her only concession to

tradition. Her hands were in his, and how she

loved him this day, this day when they would

bring before God the union they had already made

among themselves, the union God had seen fit to


"With this ring, I thee wed, in the name of

the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy


A ring, a kiss, Mulder and the Gunmen

encircling them, protecting them as they always




Inuit Community (Alaskan Yuit)

North-West Of Nome, Arctic Alaska

Six Months Later

Alone, together.

He didn't know where the Gunmen were, but

he knew Mulder was working on the generator.

The earthen walls buffered the noise, but

occasional mechanical sounds could still be


He watched her from the corner of his eye,

his hands still working the fire that warmed

them. Her red hair shone like copper set

aflame. Her face bore a couple more lines

around the forehead, legacy of the last year;

but there was something else there, a peace that

took his resentment for all that had happened to

them and turned it into gratitude.

He went to her then, unable to stay away.

He kissed her tenderly, his lips brushing her

with chaste adoration, this woman he had taken

as his wife. His love had only deepened these

six months since then, and touching her now, he

met her green-blue eyes.

"I love you," she said softly. "So much."

"And I, you. Always."

She smiled faintly. "I think about - back

then. But not much. I remember you in your

office and me in my suits and playing babysitter

to Fox. It was all such a load of pretentious


He shrugged then. "We did good things back


"Yes, we did," she conceded, "but it wasn't

real life. It wasn't relationship or harmony or

love or communing with life. We fought evil

within the world of evil, when what we should

have done was turned our backs on that world and

created a world of good."

He smiled then. It had become a familiar

refrain for all of them, even Mulder. "We have

that now, Dana. And no-one will ever take it


She met his gaze, strong and gentle. "No.

We'll keep it safe for us," she said, dropping

her gaze to the wide green-blue eyes at her

breast, "and for her." She smiled indulgently

as he stroked the small, soft cheek. "For


Emily. Emily Alaska.

Miraculous child of snow. The one they

said could never be.

But that was part of their old life, and as

it had passed away, seemingly so had the evils

of those days. And as their lives had been

renewed, so had that which she had thought

irrevocably taken, the follicles of one ovary

spontaneously regenerating like a withered tree

which refused to die.

Emily Alaska, remnant of their time in

Bermuda, the only time they had made love in

that old life. The only fragment of a life now


And perhaps that was best.


If there is sufficient interest, a sequel

entitled Bermuda II: Bermuda Remnants (no

mytharc, just an account of their new life with,

possibly, some romance) may find its way to a

website near you. In the meantime, I'm going

back to Someone I Trusted XI!