Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1
It rivaled the furthest away from DC they’d been together on a case. Ka’ula was an uninhabited crescent-shaped rock island just west of the core Hawaiian Islands.
They arrived quickly amid reports of a strange illness affecting two of three scientists camping on the island, the group there to study the bird population. No possible explanation or link could be determined, as the scientists had been isolated from the general population for months.
Scully and Mulder had been in San Diego on a case, and Skinner had asked them specifically to go investigate this, utilizing Scully’s medical knowledge and Mulder’s knowledge of unexplained things.
They’d immediately flown to Honolulu, then to the island by a small Army chopper. The Army was working on getting a larger Chinook ready for the following day, bringing a few Infectious Disease Specialists from the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta.
The scientists’ camp area was perched atop a plush grassy plateau that stood out from the craggy expanse that covered the rest of the island. There were three small personal tents spread fairly far apart, allowing for some privacy. A gazebo-style tent was in the center and held food and a small table they must sit at to eat or work.
As Mulder yelled out for the scientists, Scully realized things were worse than they thought. All three had been infected, and two were already dead.
Scully began autopsies. There were no medical facilities, let alone buildings, so she had to work inside their tents, where the bodies were.
Mulder talked to the remaining scientist, Dr. Elizabeth Georges, who was lying sluggishly in her tent.
Within minutes, he was interrupting Scully’s autopsy and asking her to see Dr. Georges. Elizabeth was struggling with extreme mental fog, apathy, tremors, and muscle cramps. The litany of symptoms was common among many conditions and made it difficult to get much more than a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ out of her.
However, one symptom seemed more out of place than the others: the tremors. Tremors weren’t normal at all in a 33-year-old woman, let alone the Parkinsonian-type tremors she was experiencing.
“Were the other scientists experiencing these tremors too?” Scully asked.
“Yes,” she responded weakly.
“How long have you had the symptoms?”
“About six hours,” she struggled.
“How long from onset to death for the other scientists?” Mulder asked, standing at the entrance to the tent.
“Umm, I wrote it down. It’s over there.” She gestured to a notepad near her feet.
“So, about twelve hours for Bob and twenty-four for Pat, according to your notes?” Mulder asked.
“Yes,” Dr. Georges sighed, defeated.
“Did you eat or drink anything strange?”
“No. We only ate prepackaged food and used bottled water.”
Scully was shocked. She walked out of the tent and grabbed Mulder, moving several feet away, out of earshot. “Mulder, whatever this is, it’s acting fast. We have to figure something out for her.”
Mulder still had Dr. Georges’ notepad and pen in his hand. “Tell me what we know; maybe writing out the facts will help.”
“Rapid onset…it’s either airborne transmission or they were all exposed to something. The tremors, Mulder…Parkinson-like.”
“Well, what does that point to?” he wondered, trying to help her along.
“Dopamine deficiency?” she questioned out loud. “That’s the symptom, but what is the underlying condition?"
"I don’t know Scully, but the military has used this island for various tests over the years. Could they have happened upon something dangerous?”
“Maybe. Or it could be some kind of new zoonotic contagion from the close contact with the rare birds?”
They stood quietly for a moment, thinking, before walking back into the tent to consider Dr. Georges. As she saw the woman tremor almost constantly, she felt she had determined the correct physical ailment, although the source was still completely elusive.
“Our best guess is you are suffering from some sort of severe dopamine deficiency,” Scully said to her.
“Is there anything we can do for that?” Mulder asked.
“Well…most medicines don’t work fast enough. Maybe a stimulant, like Adderall, would work.”
“Do you have any Adderall in your med kit?” Mulder wondered.
“No,” she said, sadly. “That stuff…you don’t just carry it around.”
“Pat took Adderall,” Dr. Georges mumbled, the tremors continuing.
Scully’s eyes grew wide, “That fits! That’s why he lived longer. Mulder, we need to find Pat’s Adderall, and she needs to take it immediately.”
Scully knew they had limited time to find the medication; Dr. Georges was already halfway toward a devastating end. They worked around Pat’s body to search through his things, finding his bottle of Adderall, but realizing there were only four capsules left.
They returned to Dr. Georges and had her take a capsule before asking about his med supply. Exhausted, she managed to reply, “We have a boat coming in a couple days with more food and medicine. It was probably coming then.”
“Oh,” Mulder said from just outside the tent.
“Now, Dr. Georges, this treatment should help. We are going to have you take one capsule every four hours, which is more than a double dose, but I think it will keep you stable until the rescue team arrives. In the meantime, I need you to monitor your blood pressure and pulse. We need to go to the top of the island to call out with details for the responders.”
“Okay,” the woman smiled weakly, “thank you.”
Scully placed a blood pressure cuff and pulse oximeter on the woman’s side table before nudging Mulder out of the tent. They headed up the path to the top of the island, knowing there was a small radio tower at the peak.
Mulder walked in front of her, sweating through his t-shirt and cargo shorts. He was already tan from the California sun, the bright rays of Hawaii adding to his golden bronze. Sneaking glances at Mulder’s sculpturesque frame always kept Scully entertained during monotonous moments on cases.
“Scully, what if we get this illness? You said it might be airborne. How do we keep our dopamine levels up until help arrives?”
She cleared her throat, knowing the best solution but also afraid to say it. “I’ve been considering that.”
“Well, is there anything we can do? We don’t have enough Adderall for us too.” He held a branch out of the way as she ducked under it.
“No, we don’t have enough Adderall.”
“Does anything raise dopamine naturally?”
“There are several things that naturally boost dopamine.”
“Such as?” Mulder asked.
“Chocolate, beef, bananas….”
“Scully, we have protein bars,” he shrugged, trudging along the path. A wild parakeet flew out from the tree they were passing.
He turned back. “What is the best way you can think of that we could naturally spike our dopamine, given what we have here?”
“Given what we have here?” she asked, delaying an answer.
“Yes, Scully! We need to maintain our dopamine levels, right? Stop being so evasive and tell me what you are thinking.”
She felt a bead of sweat drip and run under her tank top and between her breasts. “I can think of one thing; it’s just….” She flushed, her cheeks on fire. Maybe Mulder would think it was from the sun.
“What, Scully?” he asked, irritated. He stopped walking and grabbed her shoulder to stop her too.
She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and then let him have it--the scientific solution.
“Orgasms.” She felt a sudden jolt in her clit underneath the sweaty sheen of her panties and cargo shorts. “Sex with orgasms, specifically.”
Mulder’s eyes looked as though they were bulging out of his head. Then he closed them and licked his lips, his brow furrowed.
“It’s science, Mulder. Sex with a partner and an orgasm creates a significant dopamine spike that could carry us for a few hours.”
He was still frozen, but she was caught up in scientist mode, explaining the phenomena of pleasure hormones.
“There have been studies; masturbation doesn’t have nearly as strong of an effect, and neither does sex without orgasm.”
He started to nod his head, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes were still shut. She couldn’t read what he was thinking when she didn’t have access to his bottomless green eyes.
“So, you are saying that we could have this illness…we don’t know….and to be safe, we should keep our dopamine levels high…and the best way to do that is for us to have sex and have an orgasm.” His eyes open now, staring at her with a ‘deer caught in headlights' look.
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” Now she was frozen, staring into the vacuum of space.
He must have realized that she was stuck in thought. “Scully?”
“Once won’t be enough. It will need to be every three to four hours until help arrives,” she sighed and started walking again. Needing to move.
Sex with Mulder. Fuck , she thought. It’s what she’d thought about for years, but she’d admonished herself for those pesky perverted thoughts. Massively inappropriate to think about seducing him, she’d told herself.
“Okay…so just to clarify, you are saying how we survive this is to have sex to orgasm…together…every few hours?” he asked, panting, dumbfounded.
“Scientifically speaking. Yes, that’s how we survive the next twenty-four hours. And Mulder, we’ve been here three hours now. We better start soon before our natural levels begin to plummet.”