INT. THE IMAGINATION- NAUTICA SPA- MASSAGE
SUNDAY, 4:15 P.M.
We see Lislita standing in the
connector outside Massage Studio #3.
There is a look of quandry on her
face as she weighs whether she should
knock on the door which might disturb
her cousin's session. The young
woman has changed from her bathing
suit into a long wrap skirt and
matching light blue cotton top. She
makes up her mind.
Dana. . .Dana?
The door is unlocked, she discovers,
upon turning the knob. The laborer,
wearing maintenance coveralls, whom
she finds sweeping up, startles her.
The imposter is none other than
Sorry, nope. I'm Jack. Nobody's
here but me. You probably just
He goes back to his sweeping.
(not looking up)
Last name's Daniels. Think they're
done using this room for today.
And you are?
Warily, she fits her hand around the
doorknob poking her in the back.
L. Marti. I work at the gym. I'm one
of the fitness instructors.
She turns the knob as Krycek lays the
broom aside against the treatment
table, unnerving her with his ferine
(advances on her with right hand fully
extended) A pleasure. . .
Before he can press his advantage, she
opens the door behind her and exits,
leaving him more enticed than before.
INT. IMAGINATION, RIVIERA DECK-CREWMEN
It is now several hours later when we
see Krycek, here in his cabin,
chugging down the final installment
of the antidote. He suppresses the
gag reflex, and profuse sweating
immediately follows. Any discomfort
gradually passes. He slathers
shaving cream on his face, employs
the razor, and quickly follows that
up with a bracing splash of aftershave.
He smiles at himself in the mirror.
She has no choice once she sees him
suffering. Now it's time to pay a
visit to the Infirmary to see how the
contagion's coming along. . .
INT. ATLANTIC DECK-THE SPIRIT DINING
The more elegant of the two deluxe
dining rooms aboard the ship is a
bustling beehive of accommodative
activity as eager diners enter, and
promptly take their seats. Hustling
waiters skillfully avoid bumping into
the guests and themselves.
We see Scully, Langly and Mulder
seated at their pre-assigned table.
The agents, more formally-attired,
are conversing quietly, while Langly,
dressed a lot more informally, in
black jeans and a lime-colored tee
shirt, sits looking squeamish.
Being treated as if he isn't there is
getting to him, that, and the overall
feeling of not feeling so well.
Is it hot in here, or what?
I feel fine. What about you, Mulder?
(gives Langly critical eyes)
You feel okay?
Not that great.
Maybe you're hungry. The menu for
tonight looks interesting.
I'm not that hungry. I'm really
startin' to feel like crap. Guess I
overdid the sun today. My back's
killin' me. This sucks.
Antonio, their waiter, a soft-spoken
Panamanian, appears at the table. Once
their orders are taken, and Tony leaves,
they resume their conversation.
You were in the pool a long time,
Yeah, I know. I shoulda wore a suit
Mulder sips more of his champagne.
The angles of the sun's rays are more
direct at this latitude, more intense.
Knowin' that, as if I didn't, really
helps. How do you spell relief short
of stocking the pool with a Mac Truck-
load of ice cubes and I dive in butt
Scully and Mulder exchange sidelong
(as though smoothing out a 5-year old)
Let me have a look, Langly.
Come on. Let's go to the lobby, and
I'll have a look.
Bu-but like. . .
I'll have a look, and give you my
(standing in stages)
Mulder, when my jumbo shrimp cocktail
gets here, I'd better not see any
Mulder rolls his eyes and generously
smacks his lips.
Scully and Langly pick their way
through the non-stop movement until
they make it past the dining room's
lavish foyer, and veer off to the
left. Scully leads him over to the
empty stately reading room, and
motions for him to go in for the
Okay, Langly, time for the unveiling.
He begins hiking up his semi-wrinkled
shirt, grimacing to beat the band.
I've got some first aid salve if you
What's wrong? How ugly is it?
It's far from good.
The 'just how bad' is mirrored in her
Give it to me straight, Doctor, I can
You don't see what I do. I think it
earns you a swift trip to the
Infirmary. Let's go.
(pulls his shirt down)
Nooooo--do I haveta?
Aw, hey, Scully. . .it just hurts a
Yeah, right. March, Mister. Your
back looks like someone's been at it
with a branding iron. The radiating
discoloration and extreme tumescence
has me worried. It just doesn't look
like a bad case of sunburn.
(the panick is stark)
It-it d-doesn't? Wha'd'ya think i-it
I don't know. I'd like to have the
ship's doctor see this. She, or he,
might have more familiarity with
whatever this is, here in the tropics.
I don't wanna go--no. I'll be all
right now. For real!
Langly, stop whining. I'm taking you
to the Infirmary, and that's it. Give
me a minute while I tell Mulder. I'll
be right back.
(complains to her retreating back)
Maybe I won't be here when you get back.
When the deck bucks beneath his
feet, he sinks into the nearest red
wine-stained highback chair. Not
more than a minute ago, while they
were talking, the Captain had
announced there would be calm seas
all the way to Playa De Carmen.
Compared to the way he is feeling
now, having been seasick at the
outset, was a snap.
(mutters while doubling over)
Hurry, Scully, hurry--please.
When she returns, she finds him
hugging his thighs, repeating her
name like a mantra over his knees.
C'mon Langly. . . Can you stand?
He opens his eyes, and nods.
Yeah, think so. You're right, Scully,
I'd better go. I feel like I'm dyin.'
I doubt that, but let's make it quick.
Struggles to lift himself up from the
Uh, Scully? Th-think I'm gonna need
All five feet zip of Scully fits
beneath his left armpit, with ample
space to spare. The pretty pastel
amber 'thingy' she's wearing wrinkles
instantly on contact. As they stagger
off to the elevator bank, Mulder
catches up with them.
Hey, wait for me. What made you
think I didn't want to go too, Scully?
The way you made it sound, how could I
He holds up a jumbo shrimp close to
Scully's mouth, and she opens it so he
can pop it in. He holds up another
shrimp before Langly's mouth, but he
shakes his head violently to decline,
so Mulder eats it instead.
How're you feeling, m'man?
He tucks himself under Langly's other
armpit which proves to be a snugger
Like shit warmed over, then hung out
Scully squeezes his midsection, and he
jumps a little in surprise.
C'mon, Langly, the sooner we get you to
the Infirmary, the better.
What deck's the Infirmary on, Scully?
The deck below the Riviera; even with
the waterline, in the vicinity of the
The elevator nearest the wall arrives
first, and the trio loads into it.
(as the elevator doors close)
Sun over exposure's never killed anyone.
Wha'd'ya mean, uhmmm?
Well, not in a day, leastwise.
Squamous Cell Carcinoma, a precursor
to skin cancer, with its direct,
developmental correlation to repeated
sun abuse, develops over time. I hope
a bad case of sunburn is all you have,
Sun abuse? Geez, just add it to my
long list of abuses, huh?
Scully quirks her eyebrows, and Mulder
makes a project out of clearing his
throat. The elevator stops, its doors
open, and within minutes they're
staggering into the Infirmary with a
The paternalistic physician, one Dr.
Ephraim Renaldeni, a sun-tanned man in
his mid fifties, is just stepping into
the outer office. He gives Scully a
quick nod, and then his eyes settle
upon the sick man.
(a note of familiarity)
More seasickness, young man?
Langly shakes his head 'no,' and
Yes. Dr. E., at your service.
The E's for Ephraim. Ephraim Renaldeni,
what seems to be the problem?
I'm Dana Scully, a Forensic Pathologist
with the FBI, as well as a medical
doctor, although I don't practice.
We're partners within the Bureau, sir.
The name's Mulder.
He extends his hand and shakes the
Am I looking at some sort of official
No. We're on vacation. Our friend,
Mr. Langly, seems to have come down
with something I'm not familiar with.
Perhaps after you've taken a look at
his back, you might be able to tell us
if he's come down with something
peculiar to the tropics.
Fair enough. Let's have a looksee.
The ship's doctor indicates with a
flick of his meaty hand that they
should follow him into one of the
adjoining examination rooms. They lay
Langly on his stomach, and Scully
begins lifting the back of his tee-shirt
up and away.
Scu--Scully, I thi-think I'm gon-gonna
Mulder backs off from the table, while
Scully and the ship's doctor step in
closer. After Langly's through
vomiting, Scully levels the back of
her hand against his clammy forehead
and he falls silent, having passed out
(surveying Langly's back)
That's a terrible rash. What's he
I really wouldn't know.
I don't think he's allergic to anything,
but I wouldn't swear to it. . .
A shadowy figure slips into the outer
office, and filters behind the
partially-opened door of examination
room #1. In the space of time, Langly
starts coming to.
We hear Scully and Dr. Renaldeni
conjecturing. The ship's doctor
excuses himself, and leaves to re-enter
the outer office because he thinks he
Wh-where am I?
(starts rising up from the exam table)
While he was out, Mulder and the two
doctors rolled him over onto his back.
Easy, easy. Don't get up. You lost
She hands him his glasses.
Yeah. How're you feeling?
Do you still feel nauseous?
Not so much now. I feel like I've been
swimming with sharks and they've taken
some hefty bites outta me.
(erratically, he moves his right hand
away from his mouth)
How long was I out?
Just a few minutes. Not long.
Feels a lot longer; like it's been
several days. Man, my head's splittin'.
You don't have a fever, which is good,
and you're *not* sunburned.
Then what the hell's wrong with me?
We wish, that is Dr. Renaldeni and I,
knew for certain. It appears you have
a highly inflammatory, insidious rash
on your back and chest.
Spreading. You could be having an
allergic reaction to something you ate
in the last twenty-four hours, although
some of your other symptoms suggest it
could be more than just a bad reaction
The *only* kinda food I'm allergic to
is broccoli, and I sure as hell haven't
had any since I was ten. Check this
out, I've been chowing down on Frohike's
inventive grub all these years and I'm
still alive, so go figure.
What the hell's wrong with me?
We're going to run some tests. If a
pathogen is responsible, we'll try our
best to identify it, although. . .
(lowers her voice)
this certainly isn't the last word in
well-equipped laboratory facility.
I saw a microscope on the desk in the
second exam room.
Well, that's a start.
Mulder pats her shoulder as she takes
Langly's pulse again.
Y'know, Scully, compared to that ware-
house in Sisseton, South Dakota, where
you ran those series of bacteriological
analyses on the townsfolk striken with
that mysterious plantar phage, this
place's like the analysis labs back at
Scully leans her hand against Langly's
forehead for another rudimentary update
of his current temperature.
Of course you know you're staying here
Oh, crap, goody.
(in the same breath, sounding terrified)
Scully! I ca-can't move my right arm!
What about your left one?
Can you move your legs?
Not waiting for his answer, she
thumps below his right knee for the
I felt that.
She does the same to his left knee,
and it reflexively responds.
I felt that too.
Raise your left arm.
Yeah. It's tingling like crazy, but
at least it moves.
Scully makes running taps along his
left arm, then his right.
This is like so totally, freakin'
weird. I can't move the right arm,
but I feel that.
Scully quits the tappings, and
exchanges a stumped look with Mulder
whose eyebrows have knitted into a
Before he can comment, Renaldeni
enters the small examination room with
two youngsters in pajamas, with their
parents who have chosen to remain by
the door. The kids stare at Langly.
Hey, I know you.
(to the Agents)
I know them. They were in the pool
with me this afternoon.
Dr. Scully, these children seem to be
presenting with the same rash that
your friend has.
I think the first thing to be done is
run blood tests and toxocology screens.
(softly to Scully)
Sounds like it's becoming official
Let's not jump the gun just yet. Just
because we don't know what we're
dealing with doesn't mean you have to
go into X-mode. The intense outbreak
of petechiae is symptomatic of typhus
by ricksettia . . .ship fever, which
is normally transmitted by fleas, lice
and/or mites. Nothing inexplicable in
and of itself.
(his eyebrows come alive, and he rolls
his big, boogeying hazel-browns)
C'mon now, Scully, after all these
years, how can you expect me *not* to
go into 'X-mode' when you verbalize
all clinical cryptic like that? You
know how much it turns me on. You
Scully, just as impressively, rolls
her even bigger sapphire baby-blues
Not now. . .
I'll take them into exam room two and
draw some samples.
I'll draw some of my friend's.
There are some gowns over there, Dr.
Scully, your friend can change into.
When you're done, you can take him to
the small ward that's through the
door by the file cabinet.
Thank you, Doctor.
Renaldeni leaves with the children
while the freckled-face, little red-
haired girl is in the throes of
waving good-bye to Langly, and he
waves back. Quite to Scully's
surprise, the child points to Scully's
head, and she nods, smiling. Once
they've left, she quickly locates the
paraphernalia necessary to extract
Mulder, man, do me a favor?
(directed to Langly)
Make a fist.
Yeah, sure. Name it.
Tell Lisa what's gone down. Let her
know where I am, okay?
Sure thing, pal. How about I wait for
her backstage and bring her here once
I'd appreciate it, dude.
You've got it.
Scully finishes the phlebotomy, having
drawn off two viles' worth of blood.
(squinting at the crook of his left
arm where there's a small red mark)
Uh. . .Scully?
(examining the samples)
I. . .I can't see too good now.
(squints harder, then looks around
Is it gettin' real dark in here, or
is it me?
(alarmed, looks away from the vials
You can't see?
No--it's gettin' very dim.
We'll skip the gown, and get you right
into bed, right now.
She puts the collection vials aside,
and helps him off the narrow table
with its dressing paper coming off
with him. He can't help but chuckle
What? This is funny to you now?
Like, d'uh. Hell no. It's just hearing
*you* say *that* to *me*, is.
Context is everything. Just keep moving.
We see them head into the small
antiseptic ward which contains a total
of four hospital beds with blazingly
starched bedding. Langly probes the air
directly ahead of him with his left arm
extended. His right hangs stiffly at his
side, and his eyesight diminishes further
in just the time it takes them to near
the bed to their left, closest to the
door, and directly beneath a gently
glowing semi-shaded ceiling lamp.
(O.S. coming from exam room #2)
Dr. Scully, would you mind coming in
here, please? I'd like you to see
Langly, I'll be back. Try not to worry.
I know that sounds--
Uh huh, but at least give it a try
instead of driving yourself up the
wall, imagining you've contracted the
latest so-called incureable disease.
We'll get to the bottom of this.
There are no promises in medicine, but
we have something to go on. I haven't
worked on the X-Files all these years
for nothing. You say the children
were in the pool the same time as you
were. If more folks present, who were
also in the pool at the same time all
of you were, then already there's a
commonality as a jump off point, and
we take it from there.
She gives the top of Langly's head an
even stroke, and leaves the ward.
From beneath Langly's bed, we're able
to make out the fuzzy form of Krycek.
He knows that removing himself from
the room will be that much easier
since the infected man can no longer
see very well. Noiselessly, he works
himself out from under the bed, able
to overhear bits and pieces of the
conversation Scully is having with
Before departing, he hovers over
Langly in his sickbed for a closer
inspection to confirm that which had
been touted in theory, and he smiles.
(coughs hoarsely, then mumbles)
Ba-ba-babe is that you?
We see Krycek step away, over to the
door of the adjoining room, and closes
H-Hey, who-who's there?
Krycek's perverse smile broadens, and
then he almost has a heart attack.
(O.S. coming from the outer office)
Yeah, Langly, we're coming. . .
Recoiling like a sprung spring, Krycek
slinks into the deep shadow behind the
heavy door to the outer office.
Handily, the door is ajar.
(deep within his throat)
Pity *you* didn't go swimming this
Mulder and Lislita, still dressed in
her 'Pirates of the Caribbean'
costume, enter the ward. Mulder
clicks on the night-light on the
antiseptic looking nightstand.
(swallows a mouthful of tears)
Stop clownin'. I'm totally freakin'
Lislita lowers herself beside him
on the bed, and smoothes down his
unruly hair, then veers near to his
(his hands shoot towards her at the
sound of her constricted voice)
No--stay back. Whatever the hell
this is, I don't want you catchin'
She ignores his stern enjoining, and
gently kisses above the inflammation
the the right of his mouth.
Blind? But, but how? 'Es incompren-
It makes no sense.
I know. None of this does.
What does Dana think is wrong?
Her eyes don't stray from Langly's
face which is showing angry
indications of the insidious rash.