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Chapter Ten
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It couldn't be Pan.  Dana shook her head as she whispered the words in
fierce denial.  It couldn't be Pan; it just couldn't.  Pan wasn't on
this ship -- he was far away, safe, on the island somewhere.  He was
with Alex and the Rebels, and was probably still dancing with Diana.  He
was safe.  He was fine.  He was with Diana.

He was with Diana ....

Dana felt a cold knot forming in her stomach.  If he was with Diana, he
definitely was *not* safe.  Diana was not to be trusted; she was
betraying him.  Maybe she already *had* betrayed him, and he really
*was* here.  God.  What was she supposed to do?

Without really thinking about it, she found herself looking more closely
at the body stretched out on the table before her -- and frowning.  It
was Pan; there was no doubt that it was Pan.  He had the same large,
fleshy nose, and the same pouting, feminine lips.  It was definitely,
positively Pan.

Yet it wasn't.  The body spread-eagled on the table was not that of a
boy, but of a man.  Not just any man, though -- it clearly was Pan.  But
Pan has he might look in 20 or 25  years.  Pan as an adult.  Pan as a
grown man.

And suddenly a confused jumble of images were flashing through her
head:  This man, bursting into the darkened house, just as Donnie
regained posession of the gun.  A shot ringing out, granting her
salvation, just before the axe could fall and end her life.  This man
again, crying by her bedside as she lay dying.  His hand reaching out
for hers as the ambulance carried them away to safety ....

And she was bending over him as he lay on the table, so still and quiet,
with only the barely detectable pulse in his throat to tell her that he
was alive.  But he was alive -- thank God, he was alive, and she knew
who he was.  Finally, after all of this, she recognized him.  She
remembered.

Dear God, she remembered.

"Mulder," she whispered.  His name was like a song on her lips.  How
could she ever have forgotten him?  She touched his cheek, mirroring his
own gesture of a moment before, and a jolt of electricity rocketed
through her.  How could she ever have forgotten *this*?

 "Mulder," she repeated, "you've got to wake up.  I've got to get you
out of here.  Mulder, can you understand me?"  Dana could feel herself
beginning to cry; she could feel the tears slowly making their way down
her cheeks.

But there was no response from the man on the table, and Dana felt
desperation bulding up inside of her.  He had to hear her; he had to. 
"Mulder," she whispered, "you've got to get up.  I don't know how much
time we have.  You've got to get up, Mulder.  No one can do it but you,
Mulder.  Mulder, help me.  Please, Mulder."  A single tear fell from her
face, and landed on his closed eyelid.

His eyes flickered open.

"Scully," he said, very softly.  A gentle smile began slowly spreading
across his face.  "Scully."

"Mulder," she whispered again, "we have to get you out of here.  Can you
walk?"

"For you, I can do anything," he replied, his voice still low and hard
to hear.

With some difficulty, Dana managed to get him to his feet.  He was
heavy, and he was obviously very weak, and it was all she could do to
support him as he stood on trembling legs, one arm wrapped tightly
around her shoulders.  God, she thought, we're never going to make it. 
We're never going to get out of this room.

But somehow, they did.  Somehow, they made it through the door and back
to the end of the catwalk.  Thoughts of finding his sister -- of finding
Samantha -- had fled.  Likewise the other victims, each trapped in their
own cylinders, made no impression on her.  Even the monster that had
scared her so badly no longer seemed to matter.  None of that seemed
real, anymore.  Only the man next to her, leaning on her, was real.

Only Mulder was real.

Now all that stood between them and the deck of the ship was a dozen
steps.  Just a short staircase, she told herself.  They could do this;
they'd got this far.  Just a little bit farther ....  One step.  Two. 
Put your back into it, Dana.  Support this man and hold him up; keep him
from falling, because he's all you've got.  Three steps.  Five.  
Eight.  Ten ....

And finally, they were there, stepping through the hatch and out onto
the deck.  Only to find themselves surrounded by pirates.

"Going somewhere, Agent Scully?"

Even before she smelled the cigarette smoke -- even before she turned to
face him -- Dana recognized that voice.  Only one man in the world
sounded like that.  Only one man in the world invariably reminded her of
a snake slithering through the grass.

The Smoker.

For a moment Dana stood in shocked silence, surrounded by the ring of
men.  Her gaze flicked from one face to another to another, and she
recognized them all:  Eugene Tooms.  Alex Krycek.  Donnie Pfaster. 
Phillip Padgett.  And more ....

"Actually, you've done us a favor, Agent Scully," the Smoker continued,
moving slowly forward, until he stood directly in front of her.  "You
saved us the trouble of having to hunt you down."  He took a long drag
on his cigarette.  "As I think one of my colleagues mentioned, we have a
place all prepared for you."

And suddenly, the Smoker burst into flames.

For just an instant, Dana thought perhaps his cigarette had ignited his
clothes -- but then just as abruptly, Alex was on fire as well, and so
was Donnie, and in another second the three of them were rolling on the
deck, shrieking in mortal agony.

Dana felt her eyes widening in shock.  She should do something about
this; she should try to save them.  She looked wildly around, trying to
find something she could use to douse the flames.  Already, the rest of
the pirates were beginning to surge and mill about in fear and confusion
-- and even as she watched, a fourth member of the crew was engulfed in
his own personal inferno.

"Oh, my god!"

Dana whirled around at the sound of Mulder's voice, glanced at his face,
and then looked quickly in the direction of his gaze -- and she felt her
own eyes widening even further.

Approaching them, through the suddenly smoke-filled gloom, was a row of
at least half a dozen men.  Large, hulking men, shambling forward one
slow step at a time -- and Dana abruptly realized that these were the
shadowy figures she had seen skulking in the forest outside the Rebel
encampment.  Each man held a short, dark wand, and everything the wand
touched erupted in flames.

She turned back to Mulder, to see him simply standing there, slack-faced
and staring, his hands hanging at his sides in apparent futility.  Dana
suppressed the urge to swear; if they were going to get out of this, she
was going to have to do it herself.

"Come on!" she said, taking his hand and dragging him away from the
approaching men.  The members of the pirate crew continued to rush about
the deck in aimless panic -- but despite their efforts to escape, they
continued to burst into flame, one by one by one, as the men with the
wands hunted them down with ruthless efficiency.

Some were jumping over the side, taking to the water in desperation --
but within seconds Dana heard the blood-curdling screams that told her
that the monsters Pan had warned her about were claiming those men for
their own.

 Finally, she and Mulder broke free of the crowd, and immediately Dana
turned to him, and said, "Okay, now we have to fly out of here!"  She
turned away from him and prepared to launch herself into the sky.

"I ... I can't."

Dana turned back to Mulder in surprise.  "You can't?  Why not?"

He shrugged helplessly.  "I don't know.  I just can't."

She shook her head in confusion.  "But it's perfectly simple," she
said.  "You just have to want to believe."

Mulder shook his own head, very slowly.  "I've tried," he replied.  "I
really have tried.  I've tried to fly.  But just wanting to believe
isn't enough for me."

It never occurred to Dana to doubt him; she knew this man would never
lie to her.  She looked frantically around, seeking another mode of
escape.  They couldn't swim -- any doubts on that matter were banished
by the continuing screams from the water, below.  Her makeshift boat
must long since have drifted away on the tide.  And Mulder couldn't
fly.  But there had to be a way.  There had to be --

"This way!" she said, as she suddenly spied the mainmast, only a few
yards away.  It was a short term solution, she knew, but it was better
than nothing.  Better than staying on the deck to be burned to death, or
jumping into the water to be torn to pieces.  A moment later, she was
climbing up the mast, with Mulder close behind her.

Climbing the mast turned out to be both easier and harder than she had
expected.  Easier, because hardwood pegs had been driven into it at
intervals of twelve to eighteen inches, providing a rudimentary ladder. 
Harder, because the air about them was now filled with smoke and the
stench of burning flesh.  The cries of the victims also assaulted her
ears, making it difficult to concentrate on the task before her.

At last, they reached the yard, and they were able to pause and rest. 
Dana moved out a short distance on the yardarm, being careful to
maintain a good hold on the rigging, while Mulder clung tightly to the
mast, his eyes tightly shut.

Dana shook her head in despair.  She didn't understand what was wrong
with him, why he was being so passive.  It was almost as if some
essential part of him were missing -- his drive, his imagination.  His
courage.  And right now they needed those qualities -- they needed them,
if there was to be any hope for survival.

The ship, itself, was now on fire.  Looking down, she could see the
plumes of flame rising from the deck and the gunnels; as she watched,
the roof of the foc'sle collapsed with a whoosh, sending more smoke
billowing into the night sky.

"Wendy!"

Dana turned again, to see Pan, hovering a few feet off the end of the
yardarm.  Tinkerbell was there, too, buzzing and chittering, looping
around Pan in wide, crazy circles.

"Pan!" Dana exclaimed.  "You've got to help us!"

"Help?"  Pan's face took on a puzzled expression.  "What sort of help? 
All you have to do is --"

"Mulder can't fly!" Dana interrupted.  "And there's no other way to get
him out of here."

"Of course he can't fly," Pan answered, rolling his eyes as if she'd
just stated something blindingly obvious.  "He hasn't got the heart." 
He grabbed Dana's hand.  "Come on; let's get out of here."

Dana snatched her hand back.  "No!" she said.  "He does have a heart --
and we can't just leave him here."

Pan shrugged, and if it were possible for a fairy to fly in a smirk,
Tinkerbell was now doing so.  "Why not?" the boy asked.

"Because she won't leave without me."

Dana spun about in surprise, and almost lost her balance.  Mulder had
spoken the words, of course, and now she saw that while he was still
clinging desperately to the mast, he'd opened his eyes, and was staring
right at Pan.

"Why not?" Pan repeated, drifting past Dana and coming to rest on the
yardarm a few feet from Mulder -- and there was a note of stridency in
his voice that Dana couldn't remember hearing before.  "Why can't she
leave?  She can leave anytime she wants to.  She *should* leave."

Mulder shook his head.  "She could leave; she even *wants* to leave. 
But she won't.  Not without me.  Not without *both* of us."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the crackling of flames
coming from below.  The screams of the pirate crew had ceased, and a
quick glance at the deck showed that the entire ship was now engulfed in
flame.  Nothing moved -- nothing alive, anyway.

"She's right to want to quit," Pan said suddenly.  "She's right to want
to leave.  She should get as far away as she can -- she should go be a
doctor while she still can!"

"It's too late for that, Fox," Mulder said quietly.  "It's too late, and
you know it."

"My name's not Fox!" Pan yelled.  "It's Pan!  It's always been --"

"Your name is Fox," Mulder said firmly, somehow overriding the boy's
outcry.  "No matter how much you want to be someone else -- anyone else
-- you can't escape your heritage.  You're your father's son, whether
you like it or not --"

"That's a lie!"

"But you can still rise above that!" Mulder insisted, finally raising
his own voice.  He climbed shakily to his feet and, still holding
tightly to the mast with one hand, he reached out to Pan with the
other.  "Come back to me, Fox," he whispered.  "Scully needs both of us
-- she needs your drive and imagination, but she also needs my maturity
and capacity for love.  And this is the only way we can give all those
things to her."

"But Samantha --"

"We'll never stop looking for Samantha," Mulder said.  "Never."  Even as
he spoke, Tinkerbell reasserted her presence, zooming back into the
tableau from wherever she had been, buzzing within inches of Mulder's
face and hovering their angrily.  He didn't flinch; he didn't even seem
to notice her -- until, abruptly, his free hand flashed up and grabbed
her out of the air.

"This is not Samantha," he said to Pan.  "It isn't her, Fox.  Samantha
is out there, somewhere -- we'll never stop believing that.  Nothing
disappears without a trace, and we'll never stop looking.  I promise." 
He opened his hand again, and Dana's eyes widened in surprise as she saw
that the fairy was gone -- simply gone.  "But that wasn't her."

That seemed to be the final straw, as Pan slowly began to topple
forward.  For just an instant, Dana thought he would fall, and she was
about to reach out for him -- but Mulder beat her to it, grasping Pan's
t-shirt and pulling him into a one-armed embrace.  He hesitated for a
second, then let go of the mast, and wrapped that arm around the boy, as
well.

They were still speaking to each other, Dana realized -- man to boy, and
boy to man.  She could see their lips moving, and she could see the
tears streaming down both their faces.  But somehow, she could no longer
hear their words -- as if the things they said to one another were too
intensely personal and private even for her ears.  As if they were
invoking some sort of magic --

And then, suddenly, it happened.  Seemingly from nowhere, Pan and Mulder
were abruptly bathed in a pearly, white light -- a light that seemed to
grow stronger with each passing instant.  In a matter of seconds, it had
become so bright that Dana had to shield her eyes.  Ahab had taken her
to a Navy practice range, once, and she had seen a phosphorus flare
used, but this was even brighter than that.  The light was overwhelming
her, even through her hands and her tightly closed eyelids.  It was too
much ....

And then, as suddenly as it began, it ended.  The light was gone, and
after a moment's breathless hesitation, Dana lowered her hands and
opened her eyes.

She was in bed.  Her own bed, in her own room, in her parents' house in
Maryland.  Everything seemed to be where she had left it -- everything
seemed to be where it should be.  Her schoolbooks, her telescope ...
even her snowglobes all appeared to be in their proper places.  And the
window stood wide open, the curtains fluttering in the soft evening breeze.

"Hey, Scully."

Dana's head snapped around, and her eyes widened in surprise, as she saw
Fox Mulder kneeling on the far side of her bed, looking at her
intently.  At the look of surprise on her face, he smiled slightly, and
said, "Sorry.  I didn't mean to startle you."

"Th-that's okay," she replied.  "I was just ...."  She let her voice
trail off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence.

"I understand," he said.  And he started to climb to his feet.

"Wait!"  Dana reached out and grabbed his hand.  "Where are you going?"

He hesitated, then shrugged.  "Where I have to go," he said.  "I brought
you home, but now I have to go.  I have to keep looking for Samantha."

"You're leaving me," she said, flatly.  She had known, somehow, that it
was inevitable, but still she felt an emptiness in the pit of her stomach.

Mulder shook his head.  "No, I'm not," he said.  "I have to go away for
awhile, but I'm not ditching you this time; I swear it.  It's just ...
well, you have to finish growing up, first.  Just as I did."  He knelt
down again, and lightly stroked her hair.  "But I'll be waiting for you
when you do," he whispered.  And then he smiled again, and added, "After
all, you made me a whole person."

"I'm not going to remember any of this in the morning," Dana said,
fighting to keep the sadness from her voice.  "Am I?"

"Of course you will," he replied.  "You'll remember -- when the time is
right."  And he hesitated just a moment before leaning forward and
kissing her chastely on the lips.

================END CHAPTER TEN================