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

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becoming judas 6/12
darkstar
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In another life, another time he never would have dreamed that his life could be reduced to endless obsession consuming his days and nights with a burning desire for man's most basic needs. Water. Food. Companionship.

The sun rode high in the sky, turning his metal quarters into an oven. Even the bugs were too hot to attack him full force, but Mulder was weakened beyond caring.

It had been two weeks, five days. That much he knew as fact. At times he wondered if they were going to come get him at all, or if they were going to leave him in here until his rotting carcass fed the hordes of insects infesting the box. But today was a landmark. Today was the day the fragile cord binding his dignity to his body had snapped in two.

Today he had started screaming for water.

Any moisture today's pitifully small rations would have provided him had long been sucked from his body by the every-thirsty sun. It was like every other one of the nineteen days he had spent in the Oven, as he now dubbed it, but it was different. He could no longer take the swelling of his tongue, the tantilizing visions of Scully and of oceans of clear, cold *water*.

He had threatened, he had begged, he had cursed but the guards who controlled the water rations must be deaf. They were going to let him die in here, completely dried up by the heat. It was amazing that he he could track his slow slide into defeat with such astonishing clarity.

Days one through seven. He had survived beyond well, accepting the meager piece of stale bread and cup of water that was his meals, and even dealing with the heat. Scully was all right. He could do this for her.

Day eight was the first day the problems began. He had not been able to keep himself from drinking all his rationed water at once, instantly regretting it when the sun hit noon-day and full strength. But it was still okay, at least he could eat and at least he could dream of Scully after the sun went down.

Day ten the guards cut back his meals to once a day. He had come close to snapping then, as hunger gnawed at his belly while thirst rubbed against his mouth. But he had held on, if only by reminding himself what the end of his time would bring him.

Day twelve. Desperation set in, and he passed the time by catching some of the larger bugs and eating them. He had to have something- anything- to ease the pain in his stomach, and the black ones tasted pretty good if they didn't squirm too much going down. The bad news was, his back was beginning to burn like it was infected.

Days thirteen through sixteen slid by in a montone of heat, thirst, and bug hunting. It was becoming his new favorite hobby.

The night of day sixteen tragedy struck when he found he could not sleep. The bugs were back in full force and he couldn't eat enough to compensate for the ones that dug into *his* flesh with relish. Even if he ignored them, he couldn't ignore the stagnant heat nor the stench, nor the way his mouth felt filled with sand. No sleep meant no Scully and no Scully meant no hope.

Day seventeen. Why had he done this again? Was she even alive, or would he step out from the box to find a fresh grave with her name on it? The answers were slipping away from him as was rational thought.

Day eighteen. Happiness returned in the form of delirium. Instead of only dreaming at night, the hours were knit together by wonderful visions of swimming in the ocean with Scully, or sliding down a waterfall with Samantha. They were so nice he didn't need to eat or drink or hunt for bugs....

Today. Even the dreams were failing him, and a thirst so great he never knew it could exist possessed him and he began to beg the guards for a cup of water.

It was all there, in technicolor detail. All that there remained for him to do was to give in to the demons and just let the sun have him. It would be so easy too...

A shadow fell across the ventilation slats, and Mulder looked up, barely lifting his head from off the wall. "Who's there?" he called out, his voice so far gone he might have well remained silent.

"Shhh." Trader- it was Trader!- cautioned him. "Come closer to this wall."

Mulder obeyed, peeling himself off the floor and shooing the bugs away from his new position. "Ok, I'm here. Now what?" This was quite a nice illusion, different from the others.

He could hear shock in Trader's voice. "Man, what did they do to you?" As he talked there was the sound of a cap unscrewing from a bottle. It was interesting, Mulder noted to himself, how real the tiny details were in dreams. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here earlier, but I was trying to avoid time in here myself. Fortunately the guards couldn't identify me and I made it back to the barracks in time. They've had this place pretty heavily guarded until today."

<Fabrication...hallucination...> Mulder had trouble paying attention to him. It was more fun playing with the words in his head. <dehydration...> Then something cool and !wet! hit his forehead.

The words vanished the instant he felt it. No dream had ever been this real, this wet before. He lifted his head up toward the source of the water, to find more of it cascading through the vents and onto his face. Mulder opened his mouth, gulping down each liquid diamond greedily, to the point of pressing his face against the slats for more. Stray drops trickled down his chest and neck to be polluted by his sweat, but it felt so delicously alive Mulder didn't mind the waste. It was water, real, cold water and it was all his.

Just before he could begin to actually believe his good fortune, the waterfall jerked back along with a curse from Trader. "Guards, man! Sorry, I gotta go."

"No...." Mulder rasped, calling after his friend but it was too late. He sank against the damp metal of the wall, thoroughly confused. His dreams never ended like that. Maybe it was a dream....maybe it wasn't.

Dream or reality, he spent the rest of the day licking moisture from the walls until the sun stole that too and left him in a desert again.

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

Ever since she had been released from the infirmary, Scully had been secretly dreading this moment. The guards had come for her early in the morning, announcing that they were her escort to Interrogation Room B. Now, as her footsteps echoed like a funeral dirge down the hallway, she wondered what she would find. More invisible fire? A beating? The truth drugs Trader said they used on Mulder?

Mulder. It had taken a while before she could convince Trader to tell her what had happened. How he had blatantly broken curfew to bargain a place in the infirmary for her. How he was now suffering the consequences for his actions in solitary confinement. She supposed Trader had his reasons for not wanting to tell her. She knew she had wanted to charge into the solitary yard guards or not, but that was out of the question. She could do nothing to help Mulder if she was in a little box too.

And she had waited, like a good girl, but the guards were especially vigilant and Scully was beginning to approach desperation. She had to see him, to let him know she had not forgotten him. In fact, she had gone one step past remembering. The knowledge was with her every second of every day he was gone.

It was with her now, and the thought of what he might be going through gave her added strength to stand tall as the door marked Interrogation Room B swung open.

The room was almost completely bathed in dark shadows except for a circle of white light raining down from a hanging lamp in the middle of the room. A metal chair dominated the circle, and her attention was irrestibly drawn to the handcuffs built into the arms.

With eerie silence the guards marched her to the chair, strapped her in and then left. The sound of the door slamming behind them was sucked into the blackness, leaving her alone. Her very breathing seemed like the rushing of a tornado. What kind of new game was this? She couldn't help but feel there was something alive in those shadows, watching her and waiting for a time to strike.

Footsteps to the left caused her heartbeat to jump to light speed, and she whipped her head around to see a man walking toward her out of the shadows. His coal black hair was combed neatly back from his face, and the gray pinstriped suit he wore was in perfect condition. Her instant relief froze when his face became visible. The rest of the body might be human, but the eyes gave his true identity away. They were a solid inky black, and the evil they radiated was almost tangible.

"Dana Scully." he said, pacing in front of her as he read from a manila file that she presumed to be hers. "Accused of murder and high treason against the state." The creature shook his head. "My we have been a bad girl, haven't we?"

She found herself able to flash him a smile. "Give me a stiletto and five minutes alone with you and I'll show you bad."

"Temper too. Not as bad as your partner, I must say, but yours is much more deadly in its own way. "

The thing cocked its head to one side, as if he were studying her. "His anger is passionate but yours...yours is controlled and focused in it's intensity. That's what makes you what you are, doesn't it Dana? Control. It is such a vital part of your life."

Scully used a little of that control to keep her face expressionless, although her instincts told her that this man- she used the term only as a point of reference- was dangerous. It wasn't just his eyes, but his voice too, the way it sounded exactly like a snake.

"You can go ahead and act surprised. I know you are. You're wondering how I know so much about you. How I can read your mind." The man stepped into the light, a sinister smile on his face. "Well, the truth is that I can. You are a very special individual, Dana, even though you are a threat to us. You were Chosen."

"Chosen."

"Yes. You are superior to the other cattle here in that you carry part of us in you. A part planted in the experiments and the tests performed on you during you abduction, and activated by the tiny lump of metal you wear in your neck."

The skin in the back of her neck over her implant began to prickle in a sensation she knew all too well. The thought that he could indeed lock in on her innermost thoughts, was more than a little discomforting but Scully was careful not to show it. Today's battle would not be a test of physical endurance, but a duel of wills. She had to use everything in her arsenal to her advantage.

The man shut the folder, tossing it into the shadows, and walked until he was behind her. His hands rested on her shoulders around her neck, his thumb running over the surface of skin above the chip. His voice seemed to have a life of it's own, coiling around her from the shadows. "The human mind is such a thing of beauty. Primitive, yes, but beautiful. Your people have so many secrets, so hidden complexities that no one sees. " His hands glided up her neck until his fingers were at her temples. Scully's stomach turned and she swallowed hard to keep from retching at the coldness in his touch. As it was she sat ramrod straight, unmoving as she stared into the darkness and began to plot her defensive strategy.

"It is often difficult to access the brain, to read the minds of you humans due to these very complexities. But you, my very dear Scully, are different. The chip in your neck hands me the keys that will unlock any door of thought that I wish.

"Your mind belongs to me. It will make it so much simpler on both of us if you allow me to take the information I need and be done with it. But if you resist me, you risk harming only yourself. Because then I will be forced to take you apart memory by memory until there is nothing left." His voice was suddenly closer to her ear. "Nothing."

"Is that so." She knew she was stalling for time, hastily fortifying her battle stations with the fortress of her mind. The location of the rebels, as well as the rest of the important information, was hurried away to the very back of her mind, guarded by several of her strongest emotional barriers. Yes, he could attack her mind, but that did not mean she could not fight him every step of the way.

"You will make me prove myself." He sighed, and it sounded more contented than displeased. "It is just as well."

The silence like the quiet before a battle settled over the room. Scully used the opportunity to seal the entrance to the knowledge with a hasty prayer. Then his fingers tightened on her temples and she knew the greatest fight of her life had begun.

The assault on her mind started slowly, marked by a not quite physical stabbing sensation. Her eyes eased shut, and it felt as if someone was punching holes in the outer layers of her subconscious. Rather than wasting time and precious energy fighting the entry, Scully simply took a deep breath, stepped back, and waited for the intruder to show himself.

<You see how easy it is?> The snake's voice hissed throught the dark corridors of her mind, thoroughly arrogant and self-assured. <All I have to do is find the thoughts and take them.>

<Come and get them.> She threw the challenge out to him, knowing he heard it without her having to speak.

Another sensation overtook her without warning, like thousands of tiny fingers and eyes were wandering through her mind, examining each path of thought then turning away if it was not what he wanted. Finally they latched onto the path that led to an outer door, then bonded together into the voice again.

<Ahhhhh, I have found it.>

<Have you?> She gathered her thoughts together and began to concentrate on a silent recital of page #113, Section One, Sub-paragrah five, of the FBI Manual. To give the monster credit, he got the door open but she felt his subtle surprise when the monotone of facts and rules and technicalities struck him dead in the face. Each time he would try to push his way past it, she would recite another rule. While she had nothing to rival Mulder's photographic memory, her own power of recollection served her quite well when she wanted them too.

Like now.

Time didn't exist in the silent world of her subconscious. Years could have passed without her notice. The battle ceased to be an assault and turned into more of a chess match. The alien would make a move, try to access a memory that would lead to another and then to another and then to the "rebellion memories" as she called them. Scully in turn would block him with meaningless tidbits of information of no use to anyone. Each laid traps for the other. Sometimes he fell into hers. Sometimes it was the other way around.

The mental exercise was taking it's toll on her body. Her muscles were tight and aching from the tensed concentration, and she was drowning in sweat. The stabbing sensation she had first felt returned again and again, each time becoming more real, more physical, until she couldn't tell that it wasn't real anymore. All her energy was focused on blocking the mind scan and there was just not enough to block the pain. It was perhaps the alien's greatest ally, the thing that vied the most for her concentration. The price of ignoring it was slight compared to the thrill that coursed through Scully everytime she kept a memory away from him.

This was her mind. She did, indeed control it.

And that was when she slipped. It wasn't intentional, and it wasn't even one of his traps. The mistake occured when she was reciting the section of the Bureau dealing with maternity leave. Scully wasn't quite able to keep a singe of regret out of her mind that she would never be a mother. The alien honed on the emotion almost immediately, wedging his foot in the door of her memory before she could slam it shut completely.

Then he was gone, out of her mind and she was alone in the darkness there. When he spoke audibly it surprised her, jolting her to open her eyes. "You are quite a challenge, Miss Scully." His voice sounded tired, worn out. Good. "But not quite good enough. I have found a path into your memory. I will exploit it."

"You will *try*." She sounded a lot more confident than she felt. The after-effects of the mind probe spun the world around her like a cotton candy machine, increasing the shooting pains stabbing in and out of her head.

There was the click of locks and her handcuffs sprang away. The creature smoothed his hair back from where it had fallen out of place, and offered his hand. "You look a little tired, Dana. May I help you out of the building?" The false chivalry in his tone was compounded by the mocking bite to his words.

Scully considered spitting in his hand, but merely rose to her feet unassisted and met him dead in the eye. "No," She said, letting her face and voice harden into granite. " *Thank you*. I'll make it on my own."

"Suit yourself." He watched her keenly as she walked toward the door, and she could feel him just waiting for her to stumble. Her body wasn't cooperating, and it took an absurd amount of concentration to even walk in a straight line. Finally her fingers closed around the doorknob, pushing it open and away from the monster. Resisting the urge to run away as fast as she could and forget everything, she stood and turned to face him, meeting his eyes with all the skill her detachment could offer.

"You see. I am perfectly capable of handling myself."

The alien matched her smile with one of his own. "We shall see. My name is Pavlov. That is the name you will give the warden when you wish to reconsider."

"Don't be too sure of that." Scully said, tossing the words over her shoulder as she walked out of the room. As soon as she heard the door slam shut behind her, she began to walk faster and faster until her feet were pounding to match her heart as she ran down the corridor. Air. She needed fresh air. Her stomach was churning when she finally came to the entrance and pushed it open, staggering outside into the sunlight.

Trader, who had been sitting near the door, scrambled up when he saw her. "So how did it go..."

The rest of his words slurred behind her as Scully ran past him to stop behind the nearest building. The bitter taste of bile filled her mouth seconds before she began to throw up everything in her stomach. She needed to purge herself, to get as much of the aliens presence out of her mind and body as possible. She had to feel clean again, and if this was the only way to do it, so be it. She just had to feel clean....

Finally it was over, and she looked behind her to see Trader pulling to a stop, shock plastered on his face. "What did they do to you?"

Scully tried to get up but her legs weren't so keen on the idea, shaking so badly she had to remain seated. "I need to see Mulder." she told him, when she finally could talk. "I don't care who you have to bribe or what you have to do, just get me to see him."

It took him a minute to regain his composure enough to nod. "All right.....man, are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah." She wiped her face with the side of her sleeve. "I'll be fine. Just, don't tell Mulder about this, okay? It's just a little nausea. He has a lot on his mind."

"I won't tell him." He agreed, although his face asked her why she wouldn't want him to know. Scully couldn't explain to him that Mulder wouldn't accept any explanations except for the truth. And in this situation, he couldn't handle it.

She wondered if she could.

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

The solitary yard was filled with so many shadows that no one noticed two of them were alive, slipping through the night like silent ghosts. It was near impossible to tell that they were really a man and a woman. If someone were to look at her face, they would see a mix of hope and desperation, but then the shadows hid that too.

Or at least Scully hoped they did. Trader had made good on his promise, and although he wouldn't tell her exactly what he had given the guards, she had seen the packets of white powderd cocaine he slipped in his pocket and decided she didn't want to know. The ends justified the means- they hadn't been accosted by a single guard their whole trip. Once they reached the edge of the yard, Trader motioned for her to stay back. "Wait for my signal. When I walk away from the guards you'll have ten minutes with him before the shift changes. I'll be waiting back here." He paused. "Are you sure you want to do this ? If the replacement guards catch you..."

"I want to do it." Scully interrupted him. "I have to see him."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. Good luck." With that he slipped away. She could see his shape moving through the darkness and into the moonlight where the two guards were positioned. They talked for a moment, then Trader handed each of them a bag. The guard doing most of the talking snorted some of it, and seemed to be pleased. Trader shook his hand and then started walking away.

That was her cue. She crouched low to the ground, just in case, and moved through the shadows in the direction of Mulder's box. Scully only hoped he would be alive when she got there.

He had given up negotiations with sleep. It kept its distance as if it was too good to walk into his filthy little cell and give him the relief he hungered. Two days left. Forty-eight hours. 22880 minutes. 172800 seconds.

But it only took one second and it would be all over, and he would have lost. And it would be defeat because Mulder was actually looking forward to what now seemed the inevitable. Optimism was dying fast- he couldn't avoid the truth that Scully was probably dead, that he had lost his gamble and left her to die alone in one of the hospitals she hated so much.

That was, he knew, one of the reasons he reached out to welcome Death rather than fight him off. He could find Scully somewhere beyond the pale of eternity and then apologize for his mistakes. He could tell her all the things he hadn't in life.

"Mulder..." A whispered delusion broke him away from his morbid cage of thought, and even though he knew it wasn't real, Mulder couldn't help but turn his head to the sound of Her voice.

Then it hit him. The very best delusions didn't leave shadows, and the moonlight was being blocked from the ventilation slats by one very small shadow. Strength he had no idea he had left coursed through him, and he sat up quickly, pressing his hand against the vent.

"Scully?!?"

"Mulder." Relief was evident in her voice, and the tips of her fingers worked through the slats to meet his. The feel of her skin was electric, reminded him of what it felt like to be alive. She made him alive.

"Am I dreaming?" He was afraid to ask, worried that she was nothing more than a ghost or he was already dead and heaven was the brush of her fingertips.

"No." The metal creaked as she leaned against it, and Mulder tried to move until he sat exactly where she did. He could only imagine what it would be like to sit beside her again.... Her voice continued and he drank in every word like a healing medicine.

"I woke up in the infirmary after three days. They released me two days after that."

"They didn't run any tests did they-"

Scully must have caught his apprehension, for her voice was warm and reassuring. "No Mulder. No tests."

She heard his soft sigh of relief and was glad herself that it had been the truth. "Why'd you do it?"

"Scully, you have to ask?"

No, she didn't have to ask whether or not he would save her. She had to ask why. "It wasn't worth it. I'm not. This..." she glanced around the barren landscape. "is not worth it."

"You're alive. That makes it worth it." The simple intensity of his words shocked her into silence.

She didn't have an answer for that one. Moving closer to the wall, she pressed her face and hands against it, feeling the heat seep through her skin. Closer to him but not close enough. It was a long moment before she remembered one of the main reasons of her visit. Mulder always did have a way of doing that- making her forget tiny details like life and reality.

Moving back slightly from the wall, Scully reached under her shirt and withdrew the bottle of liquid treasure she had horded so carefully over the past two weeks. The plastic ration bottle was nearly full. <People would kill for this much water...> It was no exaggeration.

"I brought you some water." She said, unscrewing the cap. "I'm going to pour it through the slats, ok?"

"Ok." his voice was muffled by his movements as he drew closer to the wall. She stood on her toes, and she could just see his eyes through the slats. They shone in the moonlight as conflicting layers of pain and something she didn't dare name dueled back and forth. Mulder didn't stare at her- his gaze *consumed* her like he was memorizing every detail of her face. She would forget again if she didn't look away.

Scully turned her focus to the water bottle and tilted it against the wall, letting the liquid pour through the slats. Part of it spilled down the outside wall, and she caught a drop on her finger. She rubbed the moisture around her lips, smiling at the simple pleasure.

The water was good but even the soaking waves of wetness cascading down his mouth and face paled beside the memory of her eyes. Oh yes, and he did remember. He had stored the picture deep the in files of his photographic memory, an image that would stay with him as long as he lived. Mulder snapped out of his thoughts when he realized how much water he was drinking.

"That's enough." He said. "Where did you get that much water?" He had a sneaking suspicion but he hope she wouldn't be that foolish.

"I don't get thirsty much."

"Terrible liar, remember? You *need* to drink." He flipped through his best ways to circumvent her stubborness and chose one that might be hitting a bit low, but would work, which was the important thing. "I didn't get you into that infirmary so you could die of heat sickness after you got out." Mulder was smart enough to keep his tone playful, but he knew she would get the message.

Scully lowered the bottle, knowing he was right, and screwed the cap back on. She would save it for later, and maybe trade it for medical supplies. He'd need them after getting out of that torture box.

"So how are you doing?" she asked.

"Aw, not too bad." Mulder chose a bald-faced lie over the ugly truth. Deep inside he knew it wasn't to save her feelings as much it was to save her feelings for him. She couldn't know how close he came to surrender. "It's not all that worse than some of the joints we stayed in." The walls couldn't block the sound of her laugh and he found himself smiling as well, though the expression was rusty from disuse. "Not that I'll be in a hurry to make reservations here again."

He was lying. Scully wished her gaze could pierce through the walls so she would see just how bad the truth really was. His voice gave him away- his words may be light but underneath was a note of pain she had only learned to pick up on by years of practice. "You'll be out in two days." She said, as much to remind him as herself.

"Forty-eight hours."

"Twenty-two thousand, eight hundred-"

"Eight minutes." He finished off. "You count them too ?"

"Every morning." <Every morning I pray that you'll survive the next day.>

Now it was his turn for the questions. Leaning back against the wall at an angle where, if he craned his head just right, he could see her face, he began to speak. "How has it been, out there?"

"The usual. Trader's kept me out of any more brawls." She smiled but it was slightly bitter. "The usual...huh. One would think I'm adjusting."

"That's the rule around here, so it seems. Assimilate in peace or in pieces. How do you do it ?"

"In pieces." No use in lying about this. Scully wanted some small grain of truth to remain between her and Mulder, if only to make up for the larger lies she knew they both hid from each other.

"And the interrogations?"

<Why did I know he was going to ask?> "Fine." she said, wondering how much information to give him. "I went back today for the first time since, well, my first time."

"How was it?" To Mulder the question sounded like a warped version of normal conversation. <How was your day, honey ? Fine...I was brutally tortured and coerced to betray my friends. How was yours? Fine...I was electrocuted. Oh...too bad...what's for dinner?> He was becoming jaded. Or to be correct, more jaded.

"Different from the first." she said. <Different like nothing you can imagine.> "All they did was ask questions." Not entirely a lie. "No machines or things like that. I had a new interrogator."

"Who?"

"Said his name was Pavlov." The irony was not lost on her. "He was an alien."

Mulder's blood turned to icicles in his blood despite the heat around him. "An alien?"

"Well, he looked human, by the eyes gave it away." <They always do...> "And his voice was odd. Distorted somehow."

<So the Snake Man calls himself Pavlov? Interesting.> He didn't like the images that thoughts of that monster alone with Scully brought to mind. Now he wanted out of the tin lunch box even more. She shouldn't have to go through that at all. Much less alone. "I know him."

Scully was spared the minefield their conversation was about to cross through when a door cracked open near the back of the buildings, and two guards walked out. Time was up. "Shift change." she said, crouching down even further. "I have to go."

"Two days." he said, placing his fingers through the vents as much as he could.

"Two days." Her fingers brushed his once more, like the ghost of a kiss. "Stay strong." Then like any other angel she simply vanished back into the moonlight.

Mulder strained his eyes to see through the darkness, waiting for any shouts that would mean she had been discovered. He remained that way for some time, frozen in silence, until the silence assured him of her safety, and he could relax. With some surprise he found he was tired, that he could scarcely keep his eyes open. The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he could wake up. Then he could go to sleep again and wake up and see Scully.

When he fell asleep, the skin on his fingertips was still burning from hers.

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

Two days later:

Scully's knuckles were turning white from her death grip on the handrailing of the steps as she slowly walked from the Interrogation Building. She and Pavlov had played "chess" again today, and he had taken a rook. He had discovered Emily. Not in one sense of the word, because she was sure he already knew of her existence, but the alien had ripped the hinges from the door that protected the memories of her time with her daughter. It was one of the guards to the rebellion information. She had been able to beat him back, to minimize her damages, but it was too late. He already knew where to attack.

Now she was tired both in body and mind, and dirty. The mind probes always left her feeling filthy, exposed. Scully supposed that was just the point. If anything had a point anymore. And if not why should *she* maintain her control when the rest of the universe was running amok ?

She was running short of reasons to go on when she lifted her head and found one.

Mulder was coming toward her. He was walking very slowly, like an old man, and stiffly like his back was hurting, but he was coming. In the fierce battle to keep her mind, Scully had nearly forgotten today was the day.

She remembered now, and before she fully realized what she was doing, she was already flying across the courtyard toward him. <What am I doing??> Right as she reached him, she halted in a dead stop, ashamed to have let her impluses take over. Scully glanced at him then down at the ground, feeling her cheeks flush and hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Hi." She whispered.

He didn't speak. He moved. Pulling her into his arms, he held her so tightly she wasn't sure if she could breathe. She wasn't sure if she needed to anymore. His voice was as light as a whisper in her hair. "Hi."

Scully relaxed into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his back. Mulder stiffened at the conact, wincing. "Sorry." He said. "A little sore."

"What happened-"

"It can wait."

"No, it can't." She pulled away from him and Mulder instantly regretted opening his big mouth. "How bad did they beat you?"

"Not that bad." He said. "I just think it got a little infected..."

The word "infected" seemed to set off some kind of switch inside her, because she exploded into action the minute he spoke it. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him toward the barracks. "Why didn't you tell me? Has there been any swelling ? Pus or any other kind of runny fluids? Fever? Nausea?"

"Scully." He smiled when he spoke. "Breathe."

She glanced up at him and favored him with a guilty half-smile. "Oh. Right."

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

"Ok, Mulder, off with it."

"Oh Scully, you can be so sexy when you're direct-"

"Don't even try. C'mon, lose it."

"If I pay her will she play doctor with me too ?"

The first two voices spoke in unison. "Shut up Trader."

"Sorry."

Scully couldn't quite bite back a smirk as she unrolled the cloth hiding the medical supplies someone had stolen and she and Trader had bought. All things considered, the prisoners had worked out a pretty effective black market. She had bandages, antiseptic, and even some aspirin, which had cost a lot since it was in great demand. <Would Mulder be mad if he found out I didn't drink that water after all?> What he didn't know couldn't hurt him. At least not as much as the antiseptic.

Mulder worked his way out of his shirt, gritting his teeth where cloth and flesh weren't too eager to part company. After it finally lay on the bed beside him, he braced himself for the gasp that escaped her mouth as soon as she saw his back. When she said nothing else, it began to worry him.

"Is it that bad ?"

Scully wasn't sure how to answer him. Over a dozen angry red welts criss-crossed his skin like lattice, some swollen and still seeping blood around the edges. She had known her recovery came at a price, but not this....

"Do you want the good news or the bad news ?" "The bad news first, please."

"You've got some infection starting in places. I have antiseptic and bandages, but we'll run out of asprin before you run out of pain."

"And the good news ?"

"You'll probably pass out if it gets too bad."

"Pass the aspirin." He rolled over on his stomach and glanced up at Trader. "If that doesn't work you have my permission to cold cock me."

"Very funny Mulder."

"Who said I was joking ?"

Scully tore a strip away from the cloth bandages with her teeth, then soaked it until it was stained with the yellowish brown of the antiseptic. "Here we go." She said. "Count to three and then close your eyes."

"One...two....OW !!" Mulder felt an explosion of pain ripple from his back over the rest of his body. "You could have given me a stick to bite on." he muttered. "Or at least warned me."

"I warned you." Talking was good- she hoped it would keep his mind off the unpleasantries. As it turned out, the asprin lasted five minutes, and the cleaning process dragged out past an hour. Mercifully, he lost consciousness somewhere in the middle. After she tied off the last bandage, she noticed there was blood staining her hands.

"I need to wash my hands." she said to Trader. "Put him in bed, will you. Face down, although that's obvious."

"Right on Doc." He flashed her a rogue's smile. "Can I have a check up when you get back ?"

"Only if you spend the time in between in solitary." Scully said, sending him a smile of her own before leaving to the washing pumps.

As it turned out there was only a tiny bit of brown water left in the bottom, but it quickly became tainted scarlet as she washed her hands. It almost reminded her of her cancer, how she had always tried to wash her blood off her hands and never fully succeeded.

When she stood to her feet again, an almost inaudible humming filled her ears like the buzz of a distant radio, radiating from the back of her neck. A subconscious pull turned her head toward the Interrogation Building. A face stared down at her from a window. Pavlov's face.

<You're mine....mine...mine....>

The humming died as the sentence finished echoing throughout her mind, followed by ringing laughter. The laughter grew louder and louder until she could hear nothing else. Scully covered her ears with her hands, trying to shut the sound out, but it was impossible to escape.

She had thought that the conflict would be only in certain places at certain times.

She was wrong.

The battle for her mind would follow her ever minute of the day, everywhere she went.

to be continued... part 7