Archive of Our Own

The moment Scully stepped into the office, Mulder's eyes brightened. He pulled his feet off his desk and smoothed his tie against his shirt. "Scully, what do you know about the Appalachian region?"

She tipped her head and gave him a long stare. "The mountains are incredibly old, there's a famous hiking trail running through them, and from the look on your face, there's something strange there you want to investigate."

"The foothills rather than the mountains, but otherwise correct on all counts." Mulder pushed a newspaper clipping across the desk to her.

"Say 'polka polka polka' and save fifty percent on a milkshake and pizza combo at the Polka Dot Dairy Bar," she read. "Mulder, is this your 'something strange'?"

"Makes me concerned for the lactose intolerant people in that community, but no."

Shaking her head, Scully turned the clipping over. The article was brief, stuck between a wedding announcement and a notice of a three family yard sale.

Reward for Answers
If anyone has information about the death of Spencer Richmond in 1991, please contact his wife Emily through Police Chief McFarland. Richmond was last seen alive near Moonville Lake with an unnamed female companion.

She looked up. "Other than the ridiculous lack of actual information, which I know you usually can't resist, I don't see anything here that would catch your attention."

"He's not the only one to die mysteriously in Moonville," Mulder said.

"People die, Mulder. It's one of the consequences of living."

"What if I told you that Mr. Richmond had been cheating on his wife?"

"That's clearly implied from the 'unnamed female companion' mentioned in this, but you couldn't possibly know that with any certainty."

"I could. And I'll tell you why." Mulder leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. "The locals have another name for Moonville Lake. They call it Lake Loyalty."

"Catchy."

"According to local legend, Lake Loyalty knows if you're faithful and it takes care of those who aren't. If you're a cheater and you go for a swim in the lake? Dead by morning. Six men in the last fifteen years."

"It's far more likely that they had unknown heart conditions exacerbated by the stress of vacationing or confrontations with their wives, if they were actually unfaithful. Possibly they fell fatally ill from some substance found in that area. Maybe that lake has an unusual algae."

Mulder shook his head. "No reason was reported for any of those men to have died. No blunt force or sharp force trauma, no evidence of drowning, no heart attacks or strokes. They just ... stopped breathing. Mysterious circumstances, every last one of them. And I still haven't gotten to the best part."

"I'm aflutter with anticipation," Scully said, batting her lashes theatrically.

Mulder gave her a wide grin. "Oh, I'm not giving everything away. You'll find out when we get there. Pack your bags, Scully. I'm taking you to a resort."

The hotel had clearly seen better days, though there was evidence of some work being done. The paint on the sign was bright and the roof had lighter spots of new shingles. Short grass and tiny pink flowers peeked up between the stones of the curving path to the front door of the small building, with well-trimmed bushes under the shuttered windows. A woman wearing a wide straw hat was pulling weeds beside a tiny garden shed.

While Mulder parked in the tiny lot to the side of the hotel, Scully hauled both their suitcases inside and past a table laden with brochures, fliers, and a "Raise Our Roof!" fund-raising thermometer, to the check-in counter, where a balding man with rimless glasses sat peering at his computer screen with a befuddled look on his face. After a moment, he snickered and tapped the keyboard. "Any key," he muttered. "Josh, if you weren't my grandson."

He looked up at her. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI."

He narrowed his eyes. "Got some ID?"

Scully held out her ID wallet. "I'm with my partner, Special Agent Fox Mulder. We have a reservation."

The man seated behind the counter leaned in close and pushed his glasses up his nose to read her identification card. His lips moved as he looked between her badge number and a smudged fax sheet taped to his dusty computer monitor. "Match," he said with a sharp nod. "Called the FBI after your partner made the reservation. Guess you are who you say you are. Just a minute and I'll get your key. Need someone to take your bags for you?"

"No, we can handle them."

Scully put her ID wallet away as Mulder came up to the counter with their suit carriers slung over his shoulder and a collection of tourist brochures and pamphlets in his other hand: nature hikes, weaving demonstrations, scuba diving lessons. "You'll love this, Scully," he said happily, and brandished one pamphlet at her. "The Lake Loyalty Leap."

The desk clerk pushed a plastic, lake-shaped keychain across the counter, a single key on it.

"Check it out, Scully."

Scully ignored Mulder and tapped the key on the desk. "Excuse me," she said to the clerk. "Where's the other one?"

"Scully, we have to see this."

"The other key," she said, grabbing Mulder's wrist to stop him from waving the pamphlet around. She looked at the clerk. "We do have two rooms reserved. Right?"

The clerk shook his head. "Agent Mulder asked for a reservation for two people, not two rooms. That's what you got."

Mulder had the decency to look slightly abashed. "I ... might have been cleaning up a coffee spill when I called. Distracted. My fault."

Scully pushed down a sigh. "And I expect that you don't have any extra rooms available."

"Sorry," the clerk said as he checked a ledger next to the computer. "Tour group this weekend. All booked up. Room's got a pull-out couch, though."

"There, see?" Mulder nudged her arm. "A couch. My favorite place to sleep. We can make it work."

She gave him a long and steady look, hiding her amusement as his eyes flickered as if he was checking for escape routes. "If you snore, I'll smother you."

Mulder had managed to weasel two spots in the tour group's itinerary for an introductory lecture and overview of local history, though he had failed to mention to her that the tour was marketed exclusively to couples. The tiny performance hall was nearly full with pairs sitting side by side, mostly male-female, though Scully noted one woman with short-cropped brown hair and an arm over the shoulders of the woman beside her.

Scully tried to find a comfortable position on her folding chair, but the minimal padding on the seat had clearly given up the ghost at least ten years earlier. "Mulder," she muttered, tipping her chin toward him without taking her eyes off the trio of pre-teens doing a tap routine on the small stage at the front of the room. "When I kill you, would you prefer to be asleep so you never see me coming? I'll make it fast, as a favor to you."

"Scully, I promised that you'd get answers about this case. Just a few more minutes."

Before she could elaborate on her plans for revenge, the dancing trio finished with a clatter of shoes and a final bow. Scully applauded politely and shifted in her chair again as a woman in her mid-thirties escorted the children off the stage. The balding desk clerk set up a slide projector in the aisle as the woman returned.

"Thank you all for attending," she said, smiling brightly. She'd obviously had some training in public speaking, as even without a microphone, her voice was clear and loud. "I'm Angie Hinton, and you've all met my father, Terry. We're the owners of the resort. It's been in our family, as a tavern, an inn, a spa, and a resort, since the 1840s, and we're very proud of it."

She nodded at a few scattered bits of applause, then clicked a small remote. A picture of the lake appeared on the wall behind her. "But you aren't here for our family history," she continued. "You're here for Lake Loyalty! There are many stories, but the one I know best involves my own ancestors. In the late 1800s, Beatrice and Harold Hinton were the resort's owners. Harold had been spending more time away from home than usual, and there was a pretty new schoolteacher in town. Beatrice decided to question him on his attentions to that schoolteacher."

Angie clicked to a scanned photo of a diary page, written in elegant copperplate handwriting. "According to her diary, Harold was leaving the hotel to take a swim and fish for their dinner when Beatrice demanded an answer. Harold insisted he was faithful, and he headed onto the lake in his rowboat. Heartbroken, Beatrice left the hotel in the charge of her most trusted clerk and went to her sister's house. Her sister, her brother-in-law, and their lodger all swore that Beatrice was there all night. Harold returned to spend the night alone. He had dinner in the hotel's restaurant and went up to bed. In the morning, Beatrice returned and found him dead. No marks, no apparent cause. No one could explain how he'd died. But you all know what happened, don't you?"

The audience chuckled and nodded. One voice from the other side of the room said, "Got what was coming to him!"

Angie clicked the remote again, and a grainy photograph appeared, a clipping from an old newspaper. In front of the hotel building, a woman in a long dress stood with her arms wrapped around herself. Several men in police uniforms stood near the door of the hotel and two men in white coats carried a stretcher with a body draped in a cloth.

Scully gave Mulder a sidelong stare. "Seriously?" she whispered.

"Shhh," he replied. "It's getting to the good part."

"All the locals knew what actually happened to Harold," Angie said. "Stories from explorers and fur traders had circulated since the region was still part of New France. The spirit of Lake Loyalty knows the heart of any man who touches its waters, and she knew Harold's heart. She knew, the moment he splashed through the shallows and pushed the boat into the lake. Harold was unfaithful and she punished him for it."

Another click of her remote switched to an aerial photograph of the lake. "The spirit went silent for more than a century, but when I was a teenager, she woke up. In the past fifteen years, dozens of men, and women," she added, nodding to the lesbian couple, "have proved their faithfulness at Lake Loyalty. All anyone has to do is go for a swim, if they're brave enough, and the lake will test their heart."

She put down the remote and stepped forward to the edge of the stage, the projected water of the lake seeming to flow over her face as she smiled. "Lake access is open for anyone who wants to take the Lake Loyalty Leap! Go for a splash in our waters!" Her grin sharpened. "And hope you wake up in the morning."

They returned to their room once they left the lecture. While they'd been gone, housekeeping had left an extra set of linens and a thick pillow on the pull-out couch, with a basket of a few varieties of small muffins on the table, a little sign tucked in the basket reading "Thanks for staying with us! Muffins by Terry!"

Scully claimed the sole chocolate muffin immediately. "What about dinner?" she asked, looking at the take-out menus in a metal stand next to the phone by the bed.

"Took care of that already," he said. "Should be here any—"

A knock came on their door. "Minute," he finished. He went to the door and let in a teenage boy, who was carrying a pizza box and two milkshakes in a cardboard carrier.

Mulder took the pizzas and nodded at Scully. "Scully, Josh Hinton. He called me. Josh, Special Agent Dana Scully. His grandfather's the one who checked us in."

Scully raised her brows. "You sent us this case?"

Josh nodded. "I read about you and what you do. The um. The X-files, right? You look into weird things."

"The weirder the better," Mulder replied. "Any giant fluke worms or invisible senior citizens involved?"

Josh gave Mulder a confused look and Scully cleared her throat. "Never mind. What do you have for us?"

After setting the milkshakes down on the wobbly table by the window, Josh stuffed both hands into his pockets and stared out the window. "It's just weird," he said. "You know there's all the legends and everything."

"We were at the lecture tonight. The one given by your ... aunt?"

"My mom." He scrunched his nose. "Yeah, go ahead, say it, she looks too young to have a kid my age. Teen pregnancy. Dad was a college kid, I guess? He took off, just abandoned her. And me, obviously. Gramps had to raise us both."

"That's rough." Mulder shoved a straw into one milkshake and took a long drink. "Tell Scully why you thought this was something we'd want to know about."

"The legend is stupid, obviously. I don't believe in it. No such thing as ghosts or spirits or whatever. But like, people do die, and for no reason? That Richmond guy a couple years ago was the latest one. I thought for sure that was going to put us out of business, but Mom started doing the tours and everything, people coming to see our lake spirit."

He dropped into one of the chairs by the table and sighed. "But if there's no ghost, no spirit in the lake, I guess that would mean a real person is killing people, and since there's more than three, that's a serial killer, right? So I figured either way, it was your department. Murder goes to the FBI and weird shit—sorry, stuff—goes to the X-files."

"Do you have a suspect in mind?" Scully asked. "Someone you think we should investigate?"

"Oh hell no," Josh said, slamming back in his chair with a startled face. "I want you to tell me that I'm wrong! I want you to prove there's a spirit!"

Behind Josh's back, Mulder made finger guns at Scully.

Josh looked at his watch and stood up abruptly. "Gotta get back to work. So you'll look into everything? Find proof of the spirit?"

"We will investigate to the best of our abilities," Scully said. It was the best she could say, not wanting to promise him anything that she didn't believe, but he seemed to take it as reassurance. He gave her a quick smile and his shoulders relaxed.

"Let me walk out with you," Mulder said. "I have a couple more questions."

He left with Josh and Scully went to the table to claim the first slice of pizza. Staring out the window as she chewed, she caught a glimpse of a couple coming around the side of the hotel, arms around each other's waists. As they passed under a security light, she realized she'd seen them in the lake history lecture earlier. They paused under a tree to exchange a long and lingering kiss, then Mulder came up the sidewalk. They broke apart and he nodded to them as he passed.

Scully dumped the remains of her last pizza slice into the grease-stained box and wiped her hands with a Polka Dot Dairy Bar napkin. "It's ridiculous, Mulder," she said, launching into another variation of the argument they'd been having since he came back to the room. "There is no spirit in that lake, killing unfaithful spouses or not. Ghosts do not exist."

"They didn't say it was a ghost," Mulder said from the couch. He stared cross-eyed at the empty milkshake cup he had balanced on his forehead. "A spirit isn't necessarily a ghost."

"Any kind of apparition. Ghost, spirit, phantom, shade, haunt, specter. Whatever you want to call it. They don't exist, and there isn't one in the lake."

"I'm sure you're going to say there's a rational explanation."

"The most rational is that people choose to believe in the irrational. Superstition exists in every culture. In this case, it's not even a unique superstition. There are dozens of variations on this exact belief. A woman in white, a lady in red, a weeping woman? They're all the same story. A woman, after learning that her husband has been unfaithful, kills said husband—"

"Or her children and then her husband," Mulder added, making a 'go on' circular gesture.

"Or her children and then herself, and for the rest of eternity she takes revenge on those who wronged her. Murders or murder-suicides, probably brought on by unrecognized and untreated post-partum psychosis. There most likely was an original woman in each of those stories, and people in the years afterwards, refusing to take responsibility for their own actions when they cheated on their wives or beat their children to death, hid their crimes or their own mental illnesses, and blamed it all on the ghost of a woman who would have been fine if she'd had some decent medical care. Although, admittedly, given the standards of medical care when most of these women would have died, they'd have ended up in asylums."

"Maybe, maybe not. But just this once, just for me, can't you agree that there might not be a rational explanation? That perhaps, this time, there's something potentially supernatural happening here?" He set the waxed paper cup on the floor next to the couch as he sat up. "With a good chance of an unusual experience that will result in us examining each other's bodies for strange marks?"

Scully choked on the last slurp of her own milkshake, dropping the cup on the table to pound on her chest as she coughed. Between one cough and the next, Mulder was crouched on one knee beside her, his hand on her back. "Breathe," he said, rubbing her spine. "Breathe, Scully. C'mon, breathe for me."

His palm was hot through her thin shirt, and he was watching her with deep concern in his eyes. It was more attractive than she was prepared to admit, or that she should be willing to notice, but she wasn't ready to tell him to stop even after she caught her breath.

Instead, she let herself lean his direction, her head drooping until her temple rested on his crown and she could feel him breathing against her jaw. "I don't think I'll need to examine your body, Mulder. I've seen you enough to know it's good." And the memory of the time she caught him swimming in the FBI pool would never, ever leave her mind. His body was more than good, by her definition.

The quiet movement of his breath on her skin stopped for a second, then hit again, hard and hot, as he exhaled sharply. "Scully," he murmured. "Am I right that you might be insinuating that you find me attractive? Because I really, truly, hope that you are."

Sincerity rang in his voice and it made something shiver deep inside her. In the back of her mind, it felt as if someone had flicked a switch. Before she could talk herself out of it, she slid her hand off the table to rest on his bent knee.

"A little more than insinuating," she said after a moment. "Hinting. Maybe even all the way up to suggesting."

She drew a circle on his kneecap and turned her head until her lips moved against his temple as she whispered. "I might even go so far as to suggest that you don't have to sleep on the couch. It's a large bed, Mulder."

"It is. Looks pretty comfortable, too." Mulder wrapped his fingers around hers on his knee and dragged his other hand down her spine to spread across her lumbar. "But there's just one thing."

Scully closed her eyes as he lifted his head and brushed across her mouth and cheek so lightly she could think it hadn't happened.

"I think," he said, his lips moving on her forehead with each syllable, "that I should stick to the plan and sleep on the couch tonight. Not because I don't want to be in that bed. I do. I really do. But I want you to be sure you want me to be in that bed."

"I'm ... almost sure."

"It's that almost that stops me." Mulder stood up and gently brushed one knuckle along her jaw. "Think about it. Make sure that you're sure."

He was right. She knew he was right, and yet, for a moment, she thought about jumping up, wrapping both arms around his shoulders, and dragging him to the bed, rational thought be damned.

She took a deep breath and stood, rubbing her thumb across her palm where his fingers had been. "All right," she said. "I'll sleep on it. But I don't think I'll change my mind."

"I very much hope that you don't."

Mulder spent the morning talking to local law enforcement, while Scully went over death reports and medical histories of the victims. After lunch, they headed to Lake Loyalty.

Scully changed her shoes to something more appropriate for walking on uneven ground, then joined Mulder near a fundraising table close to the hard-packed dirt path leading through the trees to the lake. He'd bought two coffees and he handed one to her. The tall styrofoam cups had cardboard cozies with smudged orange flowers and a "Give a Dollar for Deirdre!!!" slogan printed on it. Scully held her cup with the slogan facing Mulder. "Three exclamation points?"

"They're very enthusiastic. Deirdre is raising money to take the Daisy scouts to the zoo. I gave extra. Encouraging scientific pursuits in young girls so they can grow up to be doctors and scientists and skeptical FBI agents," he said with a grin. "Careful. Coffee's strong, especially compared to the stuff at the office."

"That's not coffee. That's water someone dipped pencil shavings into for color." She took a cautious sip and whistled. "You're right," she said hoarsely. "That has a kick."

"Kindergarten parents don't mess around with their caffeine. C'mon, let's join the fun."

They headed for the entrance, passing under an arch made of braided willow saplings. Three couples she recognized from the introductory lecture walked ahead of them as a group, one of them the couple she'd seen out the window of their hotel room. Wanting to eavesdrop on their conversation, Scully lengthened her stride until Mulder had to hurry to catch up to her, even with his longer legs.

"Oh, we're not here to test the lake spirit," one woman said with a laugh, obviously responding to a question Scully hadn't heard. "I was the other woman. Jim would be taken in a heartbeat."

"Dunno," Jim said with a shrug. "Sarah knew about you but she'd been planning to divorce me anyway. Does it count as being unfaithful if your wife's glad about it because she gets more money in the settlement?"

"I'm jumping in," a different man said. "Just for fun. I've been in love with Tammy here since we were six years old. Never even looked at another woman."

They all emerged onto a wide stretch of thick grass that sloped gradually down to the lake with no sand or rocky beach as a transitional space between grass and water. Brightly-colored buoys marked off a safe swimming area, bobbing gently in the small waves.

The park was well-maintained and had several benches facing the lake along with a scattering of permanent public grills, though she assumed people had to provide their own charcoal. Behind them and off to one side was a large concrete building with a swinging wooden sign reading 'restrooms' and a few patches of tall flowers in purples, pinks, and whites behind it. A children's playground was on one side of the park, and a blacktopped area with a single netless basketball hoop was on the other. A few people had blankets and plastic folding lawn chaises set up.

"Nice place," Mulder said.

"For sitting around to see if a vengeful spirit kills someone? Rather reminiscent of people taking their families to watch the executions."

Scully spotted a wooden dock some yards away and watched as one man kissed his partner and ran to the end of the dock. With a huge whooping yell, he jumped into the air and cannonballed into the water.

The woman waiting for him laughed and applauded as he swam back to her. He shimmied up the ladder at the side of the dock, kissed her again, and took a bow for the watching, cheering crowd.

"Didn't die," Mulder said. "Must be faithful."

"Dead by morning," she replied. "We have hours before he succumbs to a horrible infection from the water or has a fatal allergic reaction to the algae in the lake."

"Such an optimist," Mulder said with a grin. He nudged her shoulder. "Come on. Let's take a closer look. Can't make a complete investigation without observation."

They walked to the edge of the lake. Mulder handed his coffee to her and she took it without thinking. Before she could say anything, he crouched down and stuck his hand into the water.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He pulled his hand out of the water and flicked his fingers, water droplets sending small rings dancing across the lake surface. "Proving that I'm loyal," he said. He glanced up at her, squinting against the bright sun. "To my partner."

She held her breath as she looked at him. The gleam of the sunlight on his dark hair tempted her to brush that one floppy bit of it away from his forehead. Only the fact that she was holding two coffee cups stopped her.

Mulder stood and retrieved his cup, his fingers brushing hers more gently than necessary. "If the lake spirit knows my heart," he said in a low voice. "Then she knows that I'm loyal to you. That I'm willing to risk my life for you."

The way he watched her threatened to buckle her knees. Her tentative overture of the night before flashed through her mind, and she knew her next wouldn't be anywhere close to tentative. Putting her cards on the table, even as hesitantly as she'd done, had given her dreams that went well beyond hints and into outright imploring. Begging, moaning, and pleading. She'd made her decision; she just needed to let him know.

"I believe you." She closed her eyes and steadied herself for a moment, then ducked down and slipped her fingers into the lake water. She didn't have to speak as she straightened up. Mulder's broad smile told her that he'd understood her message perfectly.

They spent most of the afternoon drinking strong coffee, talking to various people around the lake, and watching more than a dozen different people jump into the water. "At least one of these people is unfaithful," Scully muttered as an elderly couple waded into the shallows, with his pants rolled to his knees, her skirt tugged to her calves, and their thin hands clasped. "I don't have exact numbers, but I believe it's something like one in four people will cheat on their partner at some point. If there was a spirit in that water, she'd be killing people left and right."

"Maybe you have to be actively adulterous," Mulder said. "Not that you've cheated at any time, but are actually betraying your partner at the moment. That would cut the potentials list down."

"You're the FBI people, right?" a female voice said behind them. "You've got it wrong."

Scully turned with Mulder to see a teenage couple, hands in each other's back pockets, watching them. The girl spoke again. "Well, I mean, not completely wrong? But like, the important part is that you have to go in the water up to your chest at least. Gotta get your heart below the water so she can hear it."

"No way," said the boy. "She can feel it. As soon as you even touch, she can sense your heart. And the fed's got it right, you have to be cheating right then. Like, at the lake with the person you're cheating with."

"I heard that you have to go in over your head. All the way under. But that she'll let you go if it was just once," a second boy said, joining the group. "Like a mistake or whatever."

"Dude, it's never a mistake when you cheat on somebody," the first boy said.

"Can be. Say you've been drink—" He cut off and threw a guilty look at Mulder.

Mulder held up both hands. "Hey, not my department. I don't see any alcohol right now, no crime being committed. But while I have you all here, I'd like to ask you some questions."

"I'll be right back," Scully said, nodding toward the restrooms building, her coffees weighing on her bladder. Mulder acknowledged her with a bob of his head.

Scully had to admit it was one of the nicest public restrooms she'd ever visited, clean and well-lit, with roomy stalls and updated toilets and sinks, though the concrete put off a bit of a chill. As she washed her hands, she noted a clipboard hanging on the door of a maintenance closet, a cleaning rota. She noted several of the people that she and Mulder had spoken to, as well as all three of the Hintons.

Outside the building was a pair of payphones. One was in use by the man she'd seen outside the hotel window the night before, and Scully paused to eavesdrop, pretending to read the historical plaque on the wall.

"Yeah, Jake's been screwing up the files again," the man said. "Looks like we're going to have to be here at least another day. I know, I know. I thought I'd be home in time too. But tell Tanya that I'll bring her something and then take her to the mall on Saturday. Okay?" He paused for several seconds, then smiled and spoke warmly into the phone. "Great. I love you too, honey. See you soon."

Scully kept her eyes on the plaque, though her eyebrows rose. As she'd half-suspected, the woman she'd seen last night wasn't this man's wife. She hadn't noticed a wedding ring as he held the phone receiver, and she wondered if his girlfriend knew he was married.

"Whoa, scared me there," she heard. She turned around to see the man facing Angie Hinton, who had just approached the restroom with a bucket in one hand and yellow rubber gloves in the other.

Angie had a frown on her lips, then she spotted Scully and switched to a pleasant smile. "Hope you folks are having a good day. Either of you planning to test the lake?"

"Oh, I already did," Scully said. "My partner and I both."

"Wonderful," Angie said. "I'm sure your hearts are loyal. And Daniel? Are you going to let the lake spirit sense your heart?"

He curled his lip and shook his head. "Not to insult your lake, but I'm only here for Samantha. She believes in all this bullshit. I don't. And that's Mr. Fitzwilliam to you."

"You don't have to believe in the lake spirit," Angie said serenely. "No more than you have to believe in the sun, Mr. Fitzwilliam."

"Yeah, right." He made a rude gesture, snatched a handful of white lacy flowers from the shelf in the payphone booth, then stomped off.

Scully followed him back to the lakeshore, watching as he handed the flowers to his companion, Samantha.

She stuck her nose into the small blooms and took a deep breath. "Daniel," she said in a breathy voice. "Queen Anne's lace! My favorite. You always know what to get me."

"Anything for you, babe," he said, slapping her ass.

She squealed and smacked his arm playfully. "Going to get in the lake for me, Danny?"

"What do I have to do that for?" Daniel said, folding his arms. "No reason for it. You know there's nobody in the world for me but you."

"Because it'll be fun. C'mon, Danny, do it for me. Prove you're loyal."

"God, fine. Whatever. If that's what you want. But you're going to make it up to me tonight."

He kicked off his penny loafers and peeled his socks off, then took two steps into the lake. "There," he said. "I touched the water."

Turning away as Samantha flung herself at Daniel, Scully joined Mulder on one of the benches near the basketball hoops.

"What was that about?" he said, cracking open a sunflower seed between his teeth.

"Unfaithful husband," Scully said. "And his girlfriend. So if the conditions for your lake spirit really are that someone has to be actively cheating, he's your guy. Keep an eye out for any spirits rising from the water with murderous intent."

Mulder chuckled and nodded, then gave her a glance. After a moment, he leaned back, long legs stretched out, and draped his arm over the back of the bench. "Normally I'd suggest that we do a stakeout, but...." He shrugged. "Seems like she kills while the cheater is sleeping. Unless he's going to camp here, he'll be back at the hotel tonight, so that's where we should be, agreed?"

"Definitely," Scully said, her heart pounding at the heat of his arm along her shoulders. "Back at the hotel."

"What do you say we stick around for the sunset? Then grab some dinner, and see what the night has in store."

Scully stretched her legs out as well, her thigh pressed against his. "Excellent plan."

Scully stood in the bathroom, staring into the mirror as she organized her thoughts. She knew what she saw in Mulder: a man with devotion, intelligence, and determination practically shining on his skin. A man with sensitive eyes, strong hands, and a charming smile. A man with hidden vulnerabilities who had let her share his secrets. She was sure he had similar things to say about her, but they were taking a step she had to be absolutely certain she wanted to take. To cross the line from partners to lovers could change their interactions forever, even if that line was only crossed once.

She met her own eyes in the mirror and acknowledged that she didn't want it to be once. She wanted things to change, wanted more than a single night with Mulder.

Taking one more deep breath, she tightened the sash of the hotel bathrobe and opened the door.

Mulder was on the couch, knees spread wide, both hands drumming without rhythm on the front of the cushions. He watched her approach him, swallowing hard when she stepped between his knees.

"Mulder," she said, letting herself finally brush that loose bit of hair back from his forehead. "I need you to check something for me. I have a strange mark." She touched her lower back. "Right here."

His eyes flickered, then he gave her that quick, damned smile of his. "Strange marks," he said quietly. "Probably a mosquito bite again. But you're right, I should take a look."

Scully turned around, undid the sash, and let the terrycloth robe slip off her shoulders, exposing her bare back.

A few seconds passed, then Mulder set his hands on her waist. She heard the couch creak as he leaned forward. "I don't see anything," he said, the flow of his breath hot on her skin. "No strange marks."

She shivered as he pressed a kiss to the small of her back. "Looks good," he said. "Very good."

Scully lowered her arms, dropping the robe to the floor. She inhaled slowly and turned to face him. "And this side?"

"Perfect," he said in the most hoarse voice she'd ever heard from him. "Absolutely perfect."

Scully took a step back, then another, then another, crooking her finger as she reached the end of the bed. "Mulder," she said. "Fox. No sleeping on the couch tonight."

He shoved to his feet, ripped the knot of his tie loose, and smiled. "No sleeping at all until later." Leaning down close to her ear, he whispered. "Dana."

Scully woke abruptly, the vague sense of a distant noise crashing through her exhaustion, but when she listened, there was nothing but the sound of Mulder's heavy breathing behind her. She nestled down into the pillow, running her fingers along the faint beam of dawn light on Mulder's arm draped over her.

Both nervous, both determined, they'd had a good time. Better than good, she silently amended, even with the minor mishaps that had left them both laughing. She'd knocked her head into his jaw; he'd put an elbow on her hair. He'd put the first condom on backward and had to start over; she'd had to stop him mid-thrust so she could adjust her aching hip. But when they found their rhythm, hands locked over their heads and eyes focused on nothing but each other, they'd moved together as if they'd been lovers for years.

She hummed softly and turned over, tucking her head under Mulder's chin, her ear against his clavicle. He mumbled something incoherent and tightened his arm around her. Closing her eyes, Scully listened to the sound of his heartbeat.

She was halfway to sleep when she heard another distant noise, a shout, almost a scream. She sat up, Mulder's arm falling across her lap.

"Wha?" he muttered.

"Mulder, get up." Scully shoved out of the bed and scrambled for clothes. "Mulder, move! Someone's in trouble."

He dressed nearly as quickly as she did, and within two minutes they were out the door of their room, guns held low but ready.

The shout came again, a floor up. Scully and Mulder followed it to find Samantha standing in the hallway in loose shorts and an oversized sweatshirt. Through the open door, Scully could see Daniel supine on the bed. She holstered her gun and immediately went to check Daniel's pulse.

Nothing. No heartbeat, no breath sounds, and when she pulled his lids open, his eyes were already dull.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Samantha said. "The spirit got him. I knew he was lying to me. Separated, my ass." She dropped onto the couch and folded her arms.

"He is," Scully said. "Mulder, we'll need the medical examiner."

He was already dialing. "On it. Yes," he said to the phone. "Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI. I'm calling from the Moonville Lake Resort. I need the police chief and the medical examiner and—Then get someone to wake him up. There's a suspicious death."

Scully left him to it and turned to Samantha. "Was Mr. Fitzwilliam acting strange when you returned to the hotel? Anything unusual?"

"No. We were going to have dinner in the restaurant, but when we got back to the room, Danny absolutely gorged himself on the muffins and then he wasn't hungry. For food," she added, making quote fingers.

"The amenity basket?"

"Sort of. We had one in the room when we checked in but Danny took it back down because he's allergic to almonds, so when we were coming up tonight, Angie gave us a new one. Said she made it special, even marked one as being especially allergy-free just for him. And I wasn't going to argue with him for that one, but he ate all of them while I was in the shower."

Samantha exhaled sharply and narrowed her eyes as she pointed at Mulder. "Wait, he said you're with the FBI. That means you're cops, right? Do I need to get a lawyer?"

"We're not here to interrogate you," Mulder said. "We just want to get to the bottom of what happened here."

"Cops," she said with finality. "I invoke my right to remain silent."

"Miss—Samantha," Scully said. "What happened after Danny ate all the muffins?"

Samantha stayed silent.

Mulder repeated the question.

Samantha made a locking motion in front of her lips and mimed tossing the key over her shoulder.

Scully exchanged a look with Mulder, then stepped aside as paramedics came into the room with a uniformed police officer. "There's no evidence of what killed him," she said, toying with the white flowers on the table by the bed. "No marks, no—"

"What?" Mulder said when she didn't continue. "What is it, Scully?"

"These flowers," she replied. She held one up and twirled it in front of her face. "Queen Anne's lace. Daniel picked them from near the restrooms at the lake."

"Nice, but I'm not following you."

"People don't cultivate this. It's pretty, but it's basically a weed. When we got here, there was a woman pulling weeds, flowers that looked like this. I think it was Angie."

"Still not seeing your point."

"There are several flowers that look like Queen Anne's lace at a glance. Yarrow, wild parsnip." She looked up at Mulder. "And hemlock."

She grabbed one of the paramedics. "Have the coroner run a test for coniine poisoning," she ordered before pointing at Samantha. "Take her to the hospital. She may have been exposed as well. Mulder, come on."

He followed her out, hurrying to keep up with her as she rushed down the stairs. "Muffins?"

"Muffins," she said as she shoved open the door of the hotel. "Where is it, where is it, there. She's in there!"

She ran for the garden shed, jerking her gun up to position when she saw the door was standing open. "Federal Agent! Angie Hinton, come out, hands in the air."

Angie stepped out, both hands held above her shoulders, a resigned look on her face. "I just needed the money," she said. "The legend brought the tourists in. I was going to stop when we had enough money."

"Where's your father?"

"He had nothing to do with this," Angie said harshly. "It was all me. Has been since I was in high school."

"Josh's father," Mulder said. "He was your first."

"He deserved it. He cheated on me." She looked to the flower bed where the hemlock plants had been, a sharp smile curling her lips. "He shouldn't have gone near the water."

With Angie in the custody of the local police, Scully and Mulder spent the day cleaning up the final details of their investigation. All that remained for them in Moonville was one more night in the hotel, and then they'd drive back to Washington in the morning.

Scully pulled back the covers on the bed. "Mulder," she said over her shoulder. "Are you coming to bed?"

"I'm not tired yet."

She turned and gave him a steady look. "Neither am I. Sleep wasn't my intention."

He watched her for a moment, then gave her a grin. He got up from the couch, crossed the room, and cradled her cheeks. "Going to test my heart, Scully?"

"I don't need to," she said, settling both hands on his waist. "I know you. Faithful, loyal." She drew his head down to whisper against his mouth. "And we'll wake up in the morning. Together."