Title: Becoming Judas
Author: darkstar (clone347@aol.com)
Rating: pg-13 violence
Classification: see part one
Disclaimer: see part one
Summary: see part one

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
becoming judas 4/12
darkstar
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Whoosh. Thud. Whoosh. Thud.

His hands slid down the splintery wooden handle of the shovel as it scooped another mouthful out of the dry soil at his feet. Tiny beads of sweat that stung like salt rolled down his forehead and sometimes into his eyes although the sun had risen only a few hours ago. A few hours that had seemed to take all day because of more than just the drudgery of ditch digging. Scully wasn't with him. He was glad that she had been assigned lighter work indoors, away from the brain-frying heat but she belonged by his side. It just felt wrong without her.

<She's a big girl. She can take care of herself.>

At times he forgot just how well. She wouldn't want him to worry about her any more than he would want her worrying about him. It was inevitable though. The worrying.

"You must be new here."

A voice behind Mulder caught his attention in that it was the first friendly greeting he had received all day. He turned around to see a bone thin young man with a bushy mop of blonde hair and eyes like a jade statue. The odd thing was the man was actually smiling which made Mulder wonder about anyone who smiled in this place.

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

"I noticed you look the guards in the eye. Nobody does that. So I figured to myself that you were either a new arrival or newly out of your mind."

The better part of a grin creased Mulder's face. "Some would say you're right on both counts but I am new."

"The name is Fess. Johnny Fess. But everyone calls me Trader. " He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "If you need anything that the Commander and his goons wouldn't exact approve of, I'm the one you see. I can get it. Everything from razors for you to real dresses for your wife."

"Back the sales pitch up." Mulder said. "Wife?"

Trader looked up at him, surprised. "The cute little red head you walked in with. She ain't your wife?"

"No. She's not."

"Well here's a piece of friendly advice- don't spread that. Women of her...*caliber*....don't last too long around here between the guards and the inmates. It'll make life a whole easier on her if you let people assume she's with you."

"She is with me."

Trader switched from surprised to slightly confused. "Not your wife. But she's with you. Girlfriend?"

"No." Mulder started shoveling again, hoping that Trader would pick up the hint that he was more than slightly annoyed with this turn in the conversation.

"What is she to you then?"

He stopped shoveling and turned around to face Trader, keeping his favorite expression of non-expression on his face. "She's the reason I'll kill you and any other punk who treats her as anything less than the lady she is."

"You'd do it too." Trader said, holding his hands up in a gesture of complacency. "Hey, man, I don't go for that kinda thing. Women are bad for business."

Mulder felt himself relax, wondering why everyone and everything seemed to be a threat now. <Don't tell me you're getting *paranoid* Mulder.> But this wasn't like the old days, when he knew the general direction his suspicions came from. Now he couldn't look at a person without wondering if they had some sort of ulterior motive in mind, or walk into a building without checking for traps.

And all of it had failed. He was stuck in this oven and Scully with him. Maybe that was why he was a time bomb ready to explode on himself. A piece of Skinner's gruff advice drifted to the surface of his mind.

<Don't forget who your friends are>.

Skinner. Mulder wondered just how his ex-boss was doing. At the last report he had been heading up recon missions in the North. Was he still out there or had he ended up in a place just like this one? The sting of a horsefly on his cheek woke him from his reflections into the present.

"Sorry, Trader." He said. "I, umm, well, the last few days have been tough."

"How'd they capture you?" Trader asked, picking up his shovel. "I mean, it's obvious you're resistance or something."

"We were ambushed."

"You and the woman."

"Her name is Scully." Mulder smiled. "It's best you call her that or anything else but "the woman" if you want to avoid a split lip."

"She likes a good fight?"

"More than she should." They were silent a few minutes, then Mulder spoke up again. "Trader, thanks for the advice. About the wife thing."

"No problem." Trader shrugged. "If Eddy and his potheads weren't around I wouldn't have to give so much of it."

"Eddy?"

"Yeah." Trader straightened and pointed across the field. "You can't miss him. He's the scruffy looking one in the shade."

Mulder followed Trader's gaze until it stopped on a man built like an upside-down triangle with greasy black hair and a leering scowl twisted on one side of his face. The skin of the other side was withered and puckered in a long scar that twisted like a snake from his temple to the base of his neck. "Where'd he get the scar?"

"Knife fight. It's Eddy's speciality. Him and the rest of those muscle-bound idiots pretty much run the show around here. Rumor has it that Eddy does dirty work for the guards in exchange for a little money, a little power, and the white stuff he's always snorting or selling. He practically owns the barracks after the lights go out." Trader leaned back on his heels, his eyes distant with memory.

"That scar came from a fight that nearly cost him his life. Eddy tried to push around this girl- she couldn't have been older than seventeen- when someone decided that it wasn't a nice thing to be doing. So there was a fight. Eddy almost got his throat cut but in the end he won. Stabbed the other man right in the skull. Just shows you what you get when you interefere."

"You knew the man, didn't you?" Mulder asked, noting the familiar flickering of stale hatred in Trader's eyes he himself felt so many times.

"You could say that." Trader said. "He was my brother." His shovel punched the earth after his words. "Too idealistic for his own good, always picking the impossible battles." He shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs of memory away and looked up at Mulder. "So what exactly got you in here in the first place?"

"Idealism." Mulder smiled wryly. "Among other impossible things."

**************

Scully stared into the bowl of grey muck the cook called soup- which was an out and out lie- and swore she counted three eyes staring back at her. The bread- or was it a soft rock- wasn't much better, but she picked it up anyway. At least she was sure the bread was dead. Well, relatively sure. "This is *not* food. Nope. No way."

"Sure it is." Mulder's voice floated over the dull roar as he kept his hand on her elbow, trying to make a path through the chaos of the mess hall. From where Scully was standing, or trying to stand, it seemed every prisoner was trying to get their food at the same time and as much of their neighbor's as possible. She'd counted eight fist fights so far, and another one in full swing. It almost reminded her of the cheerful insanity of one of the rebel mess halls. Scully shoved the memory away. Past was past and present was how to hold on to her bread. She swore if one more person tried to take it she would *personally* shove it up down their throats for them.

"Mulder!" she shouted in exasperation as her toe was squashed for the third time by the same person to the left of her. "We need to find a seat *now*!"

"I'm working on it, I'm working on it!" he shouted back.

Obviously he could see something she didn't, which was most likely since all she saw where people's shoulders and arms and elbows, because he began to direct them through the crowd to a less violent corner of the room. Scully stood on her toes to see a thin kid of maybe nineteen waving his hand and smiling at them.

"Who's that?" she asked Mulder.

"Trader. He's a friend."

"Uh-huh." She felt her eyebrows raise in critical appraisal of Mulder's new "friend" but made no protests when she discovered Tripper or whatever his name was had saved them two seats. "He's got seats, Mulder. I don't care if he's a Bounty Hunter, let's get going."

"Greetings Mulder. " the young man said once they had manuevered through the crowd. His face brightened considerably when he saw Scully. "This must be Scully."

She didn't want to smile but the grin splitting him from ear to ear was infectious and spread to one corner of her mouth before she could stop it. "Yes." Scully offered her hand to shake his. "Dana Scully."

He bowed slightly but caught her off guard by planting a kiss on her fingertips instead of shaking her hands. "Mulder didn't tell me he was consorting with angels." he said.

"Ok Trader." Mulder cut in. "Enough with the charm."

"Was I convincing?" he leaned back, looking at Scully hopefully. "At all?"

That did it. The smile escaped to the other corner of her mouth and burst out in a laugh. "You don't by chance know a Melvin Frohike do you?"

"Frohike??" Trader shot a questioning look in Mulder's direction.

"An old friend." Mulder explained. "Now that you two know each other, can we sit down? My soup is getting cold."

Scully felt her eyebrows do the arch again and noticed Trader's face was mirroring hers. He spoke before she could. "You call that stuff food?"

"What?"

"Listen to the man Mulder." Scully sat down. "I knew I liked him."

Mulder had no sooner moved onto the bench beside her than the sound of heavy footsteps rumbled toward them and a large shadow fell across the table. A gruff cough behind him froze his muscles in wary readiness for whatever loomed behind him. Moving with deceptive casualness, he turned to see Eddy.

Up close he was even more repulsive, his face resembling a squashed fruit covered with dirt and other things Mulder didn't want to imagine. Somewhere in between the filth and the grime two tiny eyes gleamed a gray so pale they were almost clear, rimmed by the redness that indicated an alcoholic. Mulder's gaze gradually widened to include the three giants standing behind Eddy, looking about as solid as concrete and twice as dense.

The power of reason would have very little effect in this situation.

"Can I help you *gentleman*?" He couldn't resist the urge to sprinkle sarcasm over his comments, ignoring Scully's rather pointed glare telling him to be a nice boy and keep his face in one shape.

"Yeah, ya can." Eddy took a swig of something black and disgusting that reeked like only homeade liquor did. "You can move yer keister outta my seat. And introduce me to your lady friend."

"I don't think she's quite your type."

"Buzz off or me and my friend's are gonna make you." Eddy moved closer to her, his huge hands balling into fists. Mulder didn't so much as blink. "Real slow and painful like."

"Move along." he said. "There's nothing here to see." Yeah, he would give reason one last chance.

"Yer wrong." Eddy's gaze fastened on Scully like a leech oozing slowly down her body. She kept her disgust to herself. Right now it was her reponsibility to keep Mulder from doing something incredibly rash, and if it meant she had to take a little leering, well she'd come through far worse in one piece. "She's quite any eyeful."

"Not for your eyes, scum." The response was automatic, like the firing of his old handgun. Pull the trigger and bullets came out. Mess with Scully and his temper came out.

"This 'scum' could break you in so many pieces so fast..."

"That won't be necessary." Scully stepped between the two men, drawing herself up to her full height, which was dead level with Mulder's chest and Eddy's neck. It was getting absurd. Mulder would !not! get in a fight over her like she was some piece of !cattle! as long as she had a say in the matter.

"Oh, baby, you decide you want a real man? Let me tell, you, I've got e-v-e-rything you could want." A rotten grin curled his lips inwared as his eyes swept her body again. "So whaddya say, little lady? Ditch the loser and come with me? His fingers brushed the side of her face, starting to move down her neck. She moved before she thought. Her left hand shot out and grabbed Mulder's soup bowl, flinging the contents in Eddy's face. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing straight up in anger. <How dare he touch me...>

For a moment Eddy stood in surprised disbelief, his face covered in a thin film of gray grease and liquid. Then he seemed to come to his senses, his arm swinging for Scully's face. She intercepted it mid-air, her fingers digging into the hollow of his joints where she didn't have to be strong to dislocate the bones. It was really nothing more than a reaction, the way her knee shot up to catch him in the groin with every ounce of power in her body to back the blow up. The effect was predictable- his face took on the pasty coloring of pain and he dropped to the floor, whimpering softly.

But she wasn't finished.

Bending over the man until her mouth was close to his ear, she hissed words around her anger. "Don't touch me again, and the next time I hear you call me little lady, I'll make it so people can call you that too."

The other three seemed unable to decide whether they were supposed to attack her and Mulder or help their fallen comrade, but in the end the choice was all but made for them. A path cleared through the crowd as the black uniforms of a guard headed toward them.

"Ok, you two start moving that way." Trader pushed them in the opposite direction. "As in split. I'll handle this situation."

Scully opened her mouth to argue, but Mulder grabbed her arm and started pulling her behind him as he went. "Thanks." he called to Trader over his shoulder. Keeping a firm hold on her arm, he more or less dragged her after him, not stopping until they were outside the mess hall.

"Mulder!" She jerked her arm away as soon as the door closing, sending him a look that clearly said "back off" in all capital letters.

"You should have let me handle that." he told her, knowing she wouldn't like what he was saying but saying it nonetheless. "This isn't the Bureau where you can count on the forces of law and reason to back you up. Jerks like him kill people for far less than what you just took it upon yourself to do."

Scully was floored. She had saved his butt from whatever punishment that idiot drunk was probably being hauled to and he was !angry! at her for it ?

"Let *you* handle it, oh that would have done a lot of good! Let you two big, tough, macho men play cowboy over the little woman and *you'd* have ended up getting your face arranged." The world could have been on fire and she wouldn't have noticed. The focal point of her angry little universe was the man in front of her and nothing else registered at the moment. The words continued to spew, hot and angry like chunks of rock flung from a volcano. She knew she should stop herself. She didn't care.

"He wasn't expecting resistance from me- it caught him with his guard down. As much as it may shock you to learn this, I am all grown up Mulder, and certainly capable of taking care of myself when I need to ! So why don't you just realize that and stop acting like...like my !brother!"

The look on his face after she compared him to Bill resembled wasn't entirely different from Eddy's after she had kneed him. It froze her, reminded her of all the times she had needed him to be strong for her, had relied on him to face the things she couldn't.

Even if she had wanted to tell him, the walls of her leftover anger were too high for her to admit she had been wrong. The sudden energy rush that had sustained her drained away within the space of a heartbeat, and left her with a dizzy emptiness that swirled and mixed the colors and sounds of the night around her.

If she didn't get away she would faint and wouldn't that top things off nicely. She leaned against the wall, sliding to the ground and closing her eyes.

"Are you ok?" It was amazing how concerned he sounded even when she had just finished chewing him out.

"I'm fine Mulder." She didn't bother opening her eyes. "In the past forty-eight hours I've been through at least three of the nine levels of Dante's hell and to top it off you go Rambo on me when I try to save your butt from the detention cell. Sure Mulder, I'm fine and dandy."

"You can't take risks like that. What if he'd had a knife?"

This time she opened her eyes, not bothering to close of the windows to the bitterness inside her. "Then I'd be dead and I wouldn't have to put with this place, now would I?"

He flinched as she spoke, almost as if her words had physically cut him. She wanted to care, she really did, but all that she could feel was hate and resentment, not towards him but to a world that had wrapped her future in a barbed wire box and thrown it away. He was just the handiest thing.

"Scully, I'm sorry...." The words were choked, almost as if he was having trouble breathing.

She sighed and made a conscious effort to soften her voice before she spoke. "You're always sorry Mulder. Why don't you find something else to be for once ? Too bad it's just a little too late for us but maybe you can still help yourself."

"Hey guys!"

Scully turned around to see Trader heading towards them, a big smile on his face.

"Man, you two are famous! The whole camp's talking about it. Tough man Eddy, taken down by a *woman*! My merchandise is at your disposal, Scully, as am I. And please- dispose frequently. The smile drained like a limp noodle as he looked from her face to Mulder's. "Am I interrupting something?"

Scully dug deep down inside her and found one remaining smile to plaster on her face. It felt phony and she was sure it looked the same but she didn't care. "No, Trader, nothing at all." She got up and stood beside him. "What's next in camp schedule?"

"Curfew's in about ten minutes, but I was wondering if you two didn't want to go see if we could find some real beer and celebrat-"

"No, that's ok." she interrupted him. "I'm tired and I'm sure Mulder is too. Will you walk me to the barracks ? I'm afraid I might get lost."

"Sure!" he brightened instantly, taking her arm. "I know this camp inside and out...."

His talking continued in a steady stream as they walked, but Scully couldn't keep from turning her head back for one last look at Mulder. He was standing in the light from one of the mess hall windows, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed slightly. Against her will, a lump began to form in the back of her throat, aided by the the urge to run back and say she was sorry. But they didn't call her the Ice Queen for nothing. She erased as much of the image as she could and walked away.

Mulder took a deep breath and tried to think through the dull, heavy pain settling over him like a mantle. The tiny daggers of her words and accusations had cut easily through his defenses and into his heart. If she hadn't met him, she would have been happier. If he had fought a littler harder, colonization wouldn't have happened. If, if, if. He danced of his own free will the bed of nails her anger had laid for him. At this point it didn't matter if she hated him. He remembered why he had been angry at her for challenging Eddy in the first place.

She hadn't heard Eddy's parting words. She hadn't heard his promise of revenge.

***********

The darkness of the prison barracks was the thick, sweaty black of a room filled with crowded bodies in the middle of summer. Scully rolled over for the fourth time in five minutes, trying to relieve the unwanted pressure a knob in the concrete floor was putting in the center of her back. This time she ended up flat on her back, staring out through the tiny barred window at the slivers of moonlight that managed to sneak their way past the bars. From the position of the moon it was getting past midnight, and everyone else in the barracks sounded lost in the depths of sleep. They were the lucky ones.

She couldn't sleep. Or wouldn't. Scully wasn't sure which. Her own words played back to her like a broken recorder, accusing her in all the eloquence silent thought could. <You're always sorry Mulder....Stop acting like my brother !> How could she blame this on him, knowing how much every one of her words would crucify him ? She wasn't blind. She knew that her opinion of him was the only one he cared about, but enough to make up for everyone else whose advice he ignored. Images flooded her mind, images of the night they had been captured, of a thousand other times he had been there for her, taken things for her she knew she deserved.

Mulder was not some charm she could dangle from her finger, and turn on whenever she needed it but then toss away the rest of the time.

Her eyes fell on him as he slept in apparent peace the distance of a foot or two away from her. It wasn't the measurement of inches that made it seem so far. It was the tension filling the gap. It was beyond her how he slept at all, when he barely closed his eyes at all on the "outside". That was Mulder. A walking paradox.

Maybe he wasn't so peaceful after all. Maybe he was just using sleep as an excuse to get away from the hell they were in and the heat of her words. Was it guilt when your conscience weighed so heavy you had trouble breathing? Was this how she made him feel?

Now she wanted- no, needed- to sleep. To take advantage of the few hours of solitude it would give her. To get away from the world and more importantly, get away from herself. Scully closed her eyes, so intent on her escape that she failed to notice the squawk of hinges as the doors opened, the shuffle of many feet passing the room and one remaining pair of feet walking with purpose toward her.

"Ain't so brave are ya now....when yer friend ain't here to play tough fer ya....let's see how well you fight this !" A heavy fist landed in the side of her face, strong hands pinning her shoulders against the ground.

Her mind wouldn't work, wouldn't get past the horrible fear spreading through her veins like a poision. She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't react and for a second she couldn't breathe. <Nononononononono> Scully marshaled the fleeting remains of sanity and pushed the air out of her lungs, screaming the name she didn't deserve to speak.

"Mulder!!"

He was off the ground before his eyes opened. Through a thread of moonlight Mulder could make out two forms struggling, one on top of the other. Scully was one of them, and his stomach turned inside out when he realized she wasn't the one on top. By that time he was already sailing through the air headlong into the side of her attacker.

The man grunted as Mulder's body weight rammed into him full force, knocking him away from Scully and onto the floor. Mulder struggled to keep him pinned down, his nose filling with a familiar odor of sweat and dirt and cheap liquor.

Eddy.

A second later the bulk underneath him exploded up, and it was Mulder who found himself flying through the air, crashing into the unforgiving floor hard enough to send the air whoosing out of his lungs. Gasping for breath in the vacuum that remained, Mulder scarcely had time to steal another lungful of oxygen before a black hulk came flying through the air, on top of him. Eddy outweighed him by at least seventy pounds and he used every bit of it to his advantage. Two hands found their way around his neck, tightening like steel bands, and Mulder began to despair of ever breathing again. A wall of unconsciousness came rushing towards him. He waited for it to crash down upon him and end his fight.

It never came.

Instead a fierce shriek shattered the night to the left of him followed by an instant loosening of the vise grip around his throat. Forcing his protesting eyes to open, his vision cleared in time to see Scully all over Eddy, her fingernails digging into his face and eyes like some red-headed wild cat. In time to see Eddy grin and sling her away without a second thought. She soared over his head and into the same pavement that had broken his fall. She wasn't moving.

Mulder scrambled to his feet, gasping for breath as his starved lungs burned from the lack. Eddy turned his attention back to Mulder, the two men circling like tigers about to do battle. The rest of the barracks was awake by now, clearing a circle around them. A silence like the silence of death's waiting room filled the air, silence that was almost expecting. Mulder wondered what the others were waiting for until he saw the moonlight slide along the blade of a knife. Then he knew.

They were waiting for him to die.

There was no more time for rational thought, only reactions. The silver streak of the knife was flashing toward him in a dead line for his throat. He reigned his muscles in until the last possible second, then released them to dodge to the side, his fingers closing around Eddy's wrist and twisting as hard as he could. The resulting sound of popping bones was pleasant to hear, and the knife slipped from Eddy's grasp, shining as it spun toward the floor. Mulder dived for it, fingers outstretched in anticipation for the prize when the bone of an elbow drove into the hollow of his back, driving him yet again into the floor.

Something inside him cracked and Mulder could only hope it was his ribs and not his spinal column. A foot slammed solidly into his rib cage, and the fireworks of pain that erupted over his vision only confirmed that it was indeed his ribs. Through the tiny red dots he was able to make out Eddy's form bending over to retrieve the knife.

Instinct propelled his body up only to catch Eddy's fist solidly in his shoulder and end his efforts right back where he started. On the floor with iron weights flattening his chest and lungs. His ribs screamed under the pressure and Mulder nearly screamed with them, sinking his teeth into his lips to lock the sound inside. Eddy's face loomed above him, spilt in a filthy smile of gloating his eyes reflected. The gleaming point of the knife bit into the skin of his throat like a overripe peach, drawing a thin line of blood.

When Eddy spoke his voice was disorted, filtering down through the pain and the shock but there was no mistake the note of victory. "Any last words before you die, tough man? Before I take your woman over there as my rightful property?"

Mulder didn't answer him, ignoring the pain as he rotated his head until he could see Scully. She was still lying flat on her back on the floor, but her eyes were open and they met his in a rush of deep blue. The crystal ice of tears rimmed her eyes and streaked her face, her lips moving in words he couldn't make out. An ache different from that of any of his injuries began to pound in and out with the beating of his heart, to hold her and comfort her and fix her world.

All he could do was hold her with his eyes. Scully felt pieces of her soul crumble into dust as she watched ruby red blood well up around the knife blade. She felt moisture on her face and realized she was crying. She was silent outside but inside she was screaming his name over and over again. Maybe one time the scream would reach her voice. A prayer slipped on silent wings from her lips as all sound died away from her lungs.

<Live....>

<Live...> The word echoed through Mulder's mind in a soft whisper not unlike Scully's. It unlocked the door to a strength he didn't know he had, rushing life and energy throughout every fiber of his body. A roar tore out of his throat as he twisted to the side, grabbing Eddy's body and pushing him as the two rolled over and over in on the floor.

The knife. He had almost forgotten about the knife. Eddy still clenched it in one hand, the hand Mulder had pinned by the wrist to the floor. He banged Eddy's hand against the concrete, waiting for his grip to loosen. Again and again and again. Finally Eddy's fingers uncurled just enough for Mulder to wrench the weapon out of his grasp. Now he owned it. Now he made the rules.

Letting the blade kiss Eddy's throat ever so slightly, he hissed his words down to the man. "If you ever come near her again, I *will* kill you."

Eddy's smile returned as he replied. "If you don't kill me, I will take her. Doesn't matter when. One of these days you won't be around and she will be mine. Nothing you can do to stop it-"

He never finished his threat. The last syllable came out in a gurgle as his own knife sliced through his gut. His eyes bulged out, white with shock and disbelief more than pain as his hands fumbled over the gash spilling his blood and other vital organs onto the floor. Mulder's face was the only thing Eddy saw when he fell into eternity.

As the man's eyes froze open, Mulder slowly rose to his feet, his eyes fixed on the body at his feet. In a court it would hold up as self-defense but in truth it was cold-blooded murder. Murder to protect the only thing that mattered anymore. Bit by bit the world around him began to come back into play to the sound of....clapping?

Mulder looked up to see Trader standing in the front of the onlookers, a nod of approval on his face as he applauded. Like waves in a ripple the applause spread until the entire barracks was clapping in solemn thanks for what he had done. It was only then that Mulder wondered how many of them had wanted to do the same thing and never got up the courage. Or how many of them had friends who tried and ended up where Eddy was.

He didn't want their applause. He didn't care for the hero's position. He only wanted to cross the room and touch his universe.

Mulder walked across the room, kneeling beside her. He wiped the blood smearing his hands on his pants then took hold of her shoulders and gently helped her up. His fingers traced the side of her face, wiping away a stray tear sliding down her cheekbone.

"Are you..." his voice failed on him and he had to try again. "Are you all right ?" His mind pleaded with her. <Please say yes. Please...>

She nodded, then wrapped her arms around him in a crushing embrace. He couldn't help wincing as his ribs protested. "Sorry." she whispered. "For making it your fault."

"It's ok." he told her, sliding his arms around her in a protective circle. "Everything is ok." Her fingers smeared something warm and sticky, and she pulled back quickly, noticing the line of blackish-red liquid oozing in a thin line down from his neck. "You're bleeding." she said.

"It's nothing."

"Is he dead?" Scully knew the answer already but she had to ask, had to hear the truth from his lips. Did he...did he *kill* for her? Was there blood on his hands because of her?

There was a long moment of silence. "Yes."

"You killed him." No, she didn't want to believe it. She wasn't worth it. Not after what she had done. "It couldn't be avoided," <He threatened you.> Mulder whispered into her ear, smoothing her hair with one hand as he talked. "Scully, this is not your fault."

Then it came, the overwhelming urge to pull away from him. This was her life, and she was supposed to be handling it, wasn't she? She could control herself. It kept her from leaning into his embrace but guilt kept her from pulling away totally. A flood of light, blinding in its sudden appearance, washed over the room. She looked up, feeling his arms tighten around her as the doors to the barracks swung open and a pack of black uniforms rushed into the room. They stopped short when they saw the body surrounded by an ever growing pond of crimson and intestines.

"Who did this?" the leader, asked the crowd. No one answered and Scully prayed Mulder wouldn't, but he stood to his feet, meeting the guard in the eye as he spoke.

"I did."

The lieutenant waved his hand and two guards rushed forward, tensed for a fight but he gave them none, making no struggle as they secured his hands behind his back. Scully winced as the handcuffs slammed shut, seeing how they dug into his skin. Without speaking they began to walk away, and Mulder followed them.

"Mulder..." she reached for him, her voice conveying the pain in her eyes. <Don't go. Don't go. Let me...let me take what's my fault. I can handle it.>

<I have to.> He tried to send his reassurance into her, tried to find some to give. For a split second he turned his glance to Trader. "Watch over her." He waited only long enough to receive a nod in return then sent Scully his goodbye. Mulder didn't want to look away, but a cough from the lieutenant reminded him he had to go.

<Goodbye Scully.> He wished she could hear him.

<Goodbye.> Scully breathed the word inside her mind and let him go.

Mulder didn't look back as he walked with the guards out the door, tall and proud like a warrior who had won a great battle.

She stared after him for a very, very long time until the gore was cleaned up, the lights went out and Trader came to move her from the middle of the floor.

*************

Mastof was no less impressive in person than from a distance. His steely gray eyes regarded Mulder cooly across his desk, and there was no doubt in Mulder's mind that if he had done anything wrong, the Commander would find out.

"I read your file." Mastof said, leaning back in his chair. "Used to be FBI, even then you had an uncanny knack for sticking your nose in places it didn't belong."

"What can I say?" he shrugged. "It's a gift."

"Since you are- or at least you were- one of us, I'm not going to waste any time in baby talk."

<One of us?> Mastof was FBI? Talk about your low blows. Mulder forced the thoughts aside while he concentrated with new interest on what the man said.

"You've been here less than twenty-four hours, so I can see why you'd be a little new to the way we do things around here but murder is murder and that, Mr. Mulder, is not something I am going to have in my camp, do you understand? You and all the rest of the scum here don't have much of a life but what you have is worth enough to keep. If you take a life in cold-blood, you pay for it with yours. Do you understand?"

"Yes...sir." The sir was a hastily added afterthought, an idea that might soften whatever wrath was about to fall. Would they let him say goodbye to Scully...

"But I don't think this was murder, or that it was your idea." Mastof said. "I knew Eddy. He liked women and he liked to fight. Based on that I can guess what happened. You tell me if I'm off somewhere. I had Eddy in my office last night for an altercation in the mess hall. She was with you wasn't she? The little red-head who managed to dislocate his wrist and minimize his manhood?"

Despite himself, Mulder couldn't help smiling at the way Mastof put it as he answered. "She was my partner." For a moment he thought about adding that she was his wife too, as Trader had advised, but somehow he didn't think Mastof would fall for it. "We stick together."

"Ok, so I see things this way- he attacked her tonight after he was returned and you defended her. When it turned out he had a knife, you defended yourself too. You walked away from it, Eddy ended up painting the floor with his guts. "

"I had no choice but to kill him. He would have killed me and maybe Scully too." Now that there was a glimmer of hope on the horizon, Mulder could talk more freely in his defense.

"That was how I thought things went." Mastof sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I know you Mulder. I used to *be* you, a tough young agent running around thinking if I found the truth that the rest of the world would give it a second thought." He shook his head, frowning at the taint of bitter memories. "I wised up enough to take the offer of a lifetime years before you ever came on the scene. Now look where I am and look where you are. Times have changed Mulder. You're in here because you haven't changed with them.

"I'm not going to tolerate any trouble from you but I'm not going to punish you either. Killing Eddy probably did the rest of us a favor. So I'm going to do you one. I usually enlist the aid of one the prisoners to keep an eye on the rest. Since you killed him, I'd like you to take his place."

"You mean be your stool pigeon."

"I mean do yourself a big favor. You don't exactly have a history of cooperating with authority. Headquarters flew in some shrink special order just to interrogate you and your partner. Specially trained for the task of breaking stubborn minds like yours, so I've heard. If you cooperate with me, I will be more than willing to sign the order that will make him go away. Of course you'd have to give me some other tiny details about the Resistance, but take it from me Mulder, it's not worth the pain."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not interested. Is that all ?" He managed to keep any questions off his face but his mind was busying digesting the information he had received about the new interrogator.

"Yes. You can go. Find someone to bandage that neck wound. But think about the offer. If not for you, for her. I've seen his resume and she doesn't deserve him. No one does."

Mulder couldn't agree more and the thought sparked an chain of ideas ending up in a request. "If you still want to do me a favor I can think of something."

"What would that be?"

"I know what all an interrogation means around places like this. All I'm asking for is your word that you'll wait at least a week before you start on her. Give her time to build her strength up before you break it." There was no denying the cynicism in his last sentence.

"What about you?"

"I don't care what happens to me. But I need your word you'll wait. For her."

Mastof stared at the younger man for a moment, noting the intensity that darkened his eyes whenever he spoke of his partner. Yes, he was staring at would may have once been himself if life had worked out a little differently. And the truth was, he envied Mulder even if he did not envy him the long painful weeks ahead. He said yes to Mulder but it wasn't as a favor to him. It was a favor to himself. Mulder nodded his thanks and then left the room without further words. "Brilliant strategy." A voice hissed like a contented snake from the shadows beside his desk and a man stepped into the light. Mastof corrected himself- it looked like a man. It was something else entirely, a being whose presence made the tiny chip of metal in his neck itch like a bug bite. "Earn his trust now. The bit about the week was perfect." This alien's human form was young, about thirty-five, with jet black her and jet black eyes, a trait all the alien's shared.

"I was telling the *truth*." Mastof regarded the being coldly. Just because they owned him didn't mean he had to like it.

"Of course you were. Of course." He walked toward the door. "We'll take him and the woman tomorrow."

"No." Mastof stepped in front of him, using his heighth to his advantage. "You can interrogate Mulder tomorrow. You won't get your claws into the woman for another week."

"I think, perhaps, that you forget your place. We made you what you are." His tone dropped a few degrees and the hiss turned threatening. "We can destroy you." Mastof refused to be bullied. "I know what you are. But this is Earth and more importantly this is my prison and in both places my word is my bond. You will wait a week."

"A week then." The alien was clearly angry, stalking out of the room as fast as his short legs allowed. Pausing at the door, he threw one last threat in Mastof's direction.

"This may be Earth but it is our Earth now. And as for the prison....look around. It's ours too."

After the door shut, Mastof allowed the shiver lurking under his skin to come out. The room was colder, almost icy in the wake of that creature. He never pitied his charges. In his eyes they had done wrong and deserved their punishments, no matter how unpleasant they were.

But he could still hear the voice, the almost joyful sound when the alien had earlier described to him his methods of choice. And with all the heart he could find, he pitied Mulder.

It didn't matter, really. The alien's words were true- his life and position hung in the balance. Nothing was worth the risk of intervention.

Not even two human lives.

to be continued... part 5