below . the . moon

Title: Becoming Judas
Author: darkstar (clone347@aol.com)
Rating: strong pg-13
Classification: see part one
Disclaimer: see part one, the song 'Round Here is the property of the band Counting Crows and I'm just quoting genuis when i use it.
Summary: see part one

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becoming judas 7/12
darkstar
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*************

'Round here she's always on my mind
'Round here, we've got lots of time.....
'Round here we talk just like lions
But we sacrifice like lambs
'Round here, she's slipping through my hands.

- 'Round Here
Counting Crows
*************

She was crying again.

Scully never cried. At least never before, when they were running but running free. When they found the bodies of her families, she broke down enough to let him hold her for a few minutes, but that was all.

She was crying now. He could hear her in the darkness, less than five feet away from him. It wasn't hard to make the connections- she had been returned from an interrogation earlier that afternoon. In some ways he had expected tears, but not any of the...other... behavior.

Over the past two months she had gone from worse to unbelievable. Now she rarely talked, or slept, and it was no small accomplishment to get her to eat. Trader had racked his merchandise for fruit and other tempting items, but Scully refused. Politely, almost regretfully, but firmly. Sometimes Mulder would win out, and she would eat. Sometimes she wouldn't give in at all. But that wasn't the worst of it. She was avoiding him, trying to find excuses to be alone. Even when they were together she wasn't really there- her face was always blank and her eyes vacant, like she was somewhere very far away. When he tried to talk, she would tell him she was fine. When he tried to hold her hand, she would pull away. Sometimes she would scream.

There were bad days and there were horrible days. The latter usually fell right before and after an interrogation. Scully would sit against the wall, rocking back and forth with her hands covering her ears, whispering to someone it seemed only she could see in a voice thick with hatred.

Something was choking her from the inside out and try as he might, Mulder had no idea what. On second thought, that was only partially true. Pavlov certainly had something, more than likely everything, to do with it. And while Mulder had turned the camp upside down for an answer, not even Mastof seemed to know. Whatever the alien was doing to Scully, it was intensely private.

The implications terrified him.

He chose not to dwell on them. It was hard enough to lay in the dark and know she was hurting alone. The first time he had heard her crying, Mulder had tried to comfort her. Big mistake. She had seemed angry, almost furious with him for disturbing her. His presence, she had told him in no uncertain terms, did more harm than good so would he kindly leave before he hurt her anymore.

He was hurting her ? No, that couldn't be true. Scully was angry, but not entirely with him. Perhaps with herself, perhaps with the person who was doing this to her. Whatever the reason, it had to stop. They had to leave her alone or they would drive her out of her mind.

Mulder knew what he had to do. If Pavlov was causing this, then Pavlov would have to be taken out. <Now that's a brilliant idea...> A little voice inside his head challenged him. <Try and assassinate the head interrogator right in his own office. Not that you could get your hands on a stiletto.> He sighed. It was the truth. Pavlov was untouchable, at least for now.

If only he knew *what* he was doing to her.

If only he knew how to get her to speak to him.

If only......

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

Night paled to morning before Scully could notice the difference. The time of day made little difference. She didn't sleep anymore. If she slept, she let her guard down and he could read her dreams... The assault was constant now, battering against the walls of her sanity with a dreadful and frightening intensity. If she stepped outside of the dark prison of her mind for one moment, Scully knew she would appear on the brink of destruction. But she could not step away from the battle, not even to pull herself away from the edge.

Was that Pavlov's intent ? To push her over and then pick his information out from the pieces that remained after she hit rock bottom ?

Scully didn't know. It had long ago sunk in that she was fighting an enemy she had no chance at defeating. Now all that remained was survival, and the desperate will not to lose what was left of herself to the monster. She was almost willing to end her life herself if it would get his voice out of her head, keep him from pawing over her most treasured thoughts like they were cheapened baubles.

The idea had merit. End a pointless life with an honorable death. Attempt an escape. Fight very bravely and die very quickly. Then Pavlov could never touch her again. Mentally or otherwise.

Scully was not that selfish. She held the fireband of life deep against her bosom, embracing the pain for one thing and one thing only. She was not blind. If she died, Mulder would die with her. He had poured so much of himself into keeping her alive, it was a small wonder he had any energy left at all.

Which was why she could not let him help her now. It was her battle, her mind, and she would not be turned into some parasite, sucking the life out of him until he became as drained as she was. Pavlov was that kind of parasite. He feed off her fears and crushed her hopes.

She knew this was hurting Mulder. She had seen the sadness in his eyes every time she told him she was fine, which she wasn't, or pulled away from his touch, which was almost a reaction by now. Her allergy to human contact must be another by-product of the torture. And it was torture, more painful than anything her body had gone through. Scully could stand a lot in her body as long as her mind was intact. But take away her spirit, and she was lost. She supposed it was a small victory that it had taken Pavlov two months to whittle her defenses down, but the thrill was overshadowed by the agony of inevitable defeat.

Mulder didn't know. His mind was safe, his beautiful, intelligent soul, and she was going to keep it that way even if she destroyed herself in the process. Scully knew she was going down but she wasn't taking him with her.

Not this time.

<Good morning, Dana...> His voice was back, the starting gun for the battle of the day. <I couldn't help but notice you didn't sleep. Is something wrong ?> <Get out of my head you monster.>

He laughed again. <Oh but I'm so comfortable now. You can't ask me to leave when I'm so deep inside you.> Pavlov emphasized the last few words and she could feel the evil of his smile.

<Aren't you starting a little early this week ?>

Scully closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears. It didn't help, but she could pretend it did and illusions were all she had left anyway.

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

"Trader, we need to talk." Mulder sat down beside him. "About Scully."

"You know as much as I do." Trader concentrated on the watch he fixing more out of an excuse not to pay attention to Mulder than anything else. Lying didn't sit well with him, but he had promised Scully. "She's losing it, man. I've seen it happen a hundred times before. They can't handle it so they just put the world on pause."

"That's not her." he said. "She's not that kind of person."

"Nobody is, Mulder. Not until it happens."

Mulder watched Trader's face carefully, particularly his eyes. Something was being left out, something he wasn't supposed to know. "Tell me again what happened during my three weeks solitary."

"I told you. We went about our business, she got taken to an interrogation, we went to see you, bartered for supplies..."

"Back up to the interrogation. Did she tell you anything, *anything* at all that might can explain why this started?"

Trader shook his head and opened his mouth to continue the lie when Scully walked into the courtyard. He couldn't help but notice the way her ribs poked through the cloth, or the dark circles ringing her haunted eyes. <Sorry Scully, but this is for your own good.>

"Actually there was something." He put down the watch and looked at Mulder. "She didn't want me to tell you, but she was really sick after the first interrogation."

"Sick?" The word "cancer" came to mind with a vengeance and Mulder prayed that wasn't the case. "Nosebleeds ?"

"No, I mean *sick* sick. She must have thrown up everything she had eaten the past week. She was really messed up. Wouldn't tell me what happened, but said she had to see you. It was about two days before you got out."

"Before did you notice her acting any way like she does now?"

"Now that you mention it, no. Not at all. It's like she's a whole different person."

Mulder couldn't help but feel relieved that it was probably *not* cancer but joint with that came the knowledge that it was something directly related to Pavlov and his interrogations. Now that he knew for sure, he could take the offensive and find out why. Before it was too late.

"I need to see the warden." he said.

"Not again, man." Trader shook his head. " *You* may have forgotten the last time we burst into his office, but *I* spent most of the night hiding in a storage cellar with very large, very unfriendly rats. Not a good thing."

"No," Mulder smiled ruefully. "I mean how do I make an appointment?"

"Simple, you go find his secretary and tell her that you need to see the warden as soon as possible. Give her this-" Trader slipped him a bar of chocolate. "And say it's an emergency, that you'd like in today. It's all nice, clean, and no one gets hurt."

"Where is the secretary's office?"

"Right next door to the warden's. Although I would avoid the guards if possible. They might still remember the last time you charged in like the wrath of God."

"I'll be sure to."

Mulder knocked on the plain, unmarked door next to Mastof's office, hoping that he had the right place. After a moment, a pleasant enough female voice called him to come in. He opened the door, shutting it carefully behind him, then looked up to see who he had to bribe.

And was promptly shocked speechless. The woman sitting behind the desk, her long brown hair done up in a neat bun and her face formed into a question at his expression was a Samantha. Not the Samantha. He knew he would never be *that* lucky. But it looked like her and it was enough to knock him off his feet until she spoke again.

"May I help you...sir??"

"Oh yeah...." Mulder cleared his throat and approached the desk. "I need to see the warden."

"State your prison number and reason for admittance please."

Mulder glanced down at his wrist. "Prisoner number 8312075 in regards to a private situation." He placed the bar of chocolate in front of her. "A very urgent private situation."

The Samantha looked down at the gift then back up at Mulder. "Is this a bribe?"

"No. It's a gift."

She smiled in an expression that reminded him of the real Samantha when she was about to scold him. "I'm sorry. I don't take that kind of gifts." She watched him for a moment more. "But I can get you in at noon regardless."

"Thank you." Mulder returned her smile with one of his own, even genuine. As he turned to go, her voice called after him.

"Do I know you?" she asked him, a somewhat puzzled look on her face. "You look familar..."

This time his smile was a little sad. "No, I don't think you do. Good day." He walked out the door and down the hall, already planning what he would say to Mastof.

In fact he was so deep in thought he didn't notice the way her face fell when he answered her, like someone who expected bad news but hated to hear it all the same.

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

"Come in, come in." Pavlov's voice beckoned her through the shadows, and she could see him standing under the lamp, his hands on the back of the chair. "Please, sit." Scully stood at the door just long enough to contradict him, then walked into the light and sat down. The handcuffs clamped in their familiar places, and the final chess match was now in session.

"You know, I really must tell you how much I've enjoyed our time together. It is so hard these days to find a worthy adversary, one left with enough spirit to provide a true challenge."

"If you and your kind didn't suck the life out of the world, you'd find more."

"Dana, Dana, Dana, you still don't understand, do you ? This world is ours. The people have settled into our rule. Among them *you* are the disease, the cancer. Only when those like yourself learn to accept the lives we so generously leave you with will society began to move on."

Scully had neither the time nor the energry for a debate, so she tuned him out, withdrawing to her last stronghold of thought to prepare it for the assault. It took Pavlov only moments to recognize that he no longer had her interest, and his footsteps echoed in the emptiness of the room as he moved to his customary place behind her. His hands closed around her temples and it all began again.

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

"What are you letting him do to Scully ?"

No sooner had Mulder's foot landed inside the door to Mastof's office than the question jumped out of his mouth as it had a mind of its own. "I need to know."

"Ah. Mulder." Mastof looked up from his paperwork, ignoring the subject. "At least you made an appointment this time."

"He's *killing* her! And I want to know how."

Mastof leaned back in his chair. "I don't know." he said. "He's above me, I can't help you."

"Certainly you know something. Anything. You're the warden."

"Yes, Mulder, I am the warden and he is a specially sent Interrogator with authority so far above mine I am nothing more than an errand boy as long as he is here."

"I refuse to believe that."

"Well believe it." He stood to his feet, walking until he stood in front of Mulder. "I've helped you twice already, but now you can help me. Give him the information. Do you think I actually *like* watching her or you or anyone else be turned into a zombie ? You knew the risks when you signed onto the battle and it was just your hard luck to pick the wrong side."

"Does that mean you won't help me?"

"No, Mulder." Mastof said. "It means I can't. Not until you wise up and start cooperating. And until you're ready to do that, I suggest you spend your time somewhere else besides my office. Am I clear?"

"Like a bell." Mulder said. "I suppose the mistake was mine, *sir*, in expecting you to behave like a human just because you used to be one."

The words hit home with a vengeance as Mastof watched Mulder exit the room without so much as another glance. <Used to be one.> Was it really true? He stood in front of the window in his office, a large sheet of plate glass taking up most of the western wall, and watched his reflection stare back at him. After a few moments his gaze wandered down to the courtyard below, to the prisoners going about their task. Mastof had often watched them, using it as a reminder of how fortunate he was to be spared their fate.

Now he wondered if he had really come out on top.

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

Scully gritted her teeth as another stab of phantom pain skewed the back of her mind. It was all she could do to keep from screaming as the tension within her head built like a mutated version of a headache. One by one she had watched Pavlov knock her barriers aside like they were paper instead of stone. The chinks and gaps in her defenses were too many to patch up.

Five minuted ago he had attacked her queen, the memories of Emily's death. She stood inside the door, pushing with all the dead weight of the junk memories she had left to keep him out. His voice showed the strain as he tried to break into the thought.

<I....will....beat you.....human....>

There was a silence and a moment's lessening of the battle's intensity that she should have taken as a warning. An instant later, a very real, very tangible hand stuck her savagely across the face, and she felt the warm sticky flow of blood begin to gush out of her nose. The pain rushed around her like some howling demon, snapping her concentration only at the moment of impact.

That was all he needed. With a triumphant shout he returned to her mind, knocking the door and her junk memories aside. She was frozen, helpless, while he threw the images in her face as he followed the path closer and closer toward the prize.

<Dana....she needs your help. She needs you Dana....go to her....>

<She's gone into a coma....>

Then came the coffin, pictures of a cross lost in a sea of sand. <Who are these men, who would create a life whose only hope was to die?>

The question unfroze Scully, and she blinked to shatter the past, then raced ahead of Pavlov to the last of her strongholds. He had captured Emily. Her queen was dead and now one solitary knight remained alone on the battlefield, standing in brave protection of the king.

Memories of Mulder surrounded the precious information, and she stood among them as his forces swept down in their final attack. It came with the raw power of a thunder storm, battering at her from all directions. He would race down one path, slam into the barrier, then race down another and do the same. And though the memories stood strong, each fresh blow drove old weakness to new heights. Scully felt her resolve weaken and knew Pavlov did too.

<Checkmate, Dana. Surrender and I will leave you with your mind....it is the only way you can survive....>

Scully threw her head back in open defiance. She would not let him win. She would not let him have Mulder. The battle came to a dead stop, like the eerie peace of the eye of a hurricane, as she felt him gather his attack and focus it for one final run. As she marshalled her strength to play the only card she had left. With a sound like the roar of a train run amok, Pavlov rushed her walls. She paused, waiting with her head high and eyes glowing as he drew ever closer until she could taste his triumph.

And she pulled her walls down, sealing herself and the answers about the rebellion deep within the rubble of her mind. Above she could hear his scream of abject frustration, feel him dig useless through the debris. A tiny smile graced her lips as she fell of her own free will into oblivion. As she threw the battle, sacrificing herself, to save the war.

Another vicious slap drew her right back out. Scully opened her eyes to see Pavlov's face, turned inside out with hatred, inches from her own. "This is *not* over." he hissed, undoing her handcuffs. "You have destroyed the only thing that makes you who you are. I will use that to destroy you." His hands closed around her shoulders, pulling her up and out of the chair. With a roar that sounded more alien than anything else, he hurled her through the air. Her body cried out in silent protest as it slammed into the door. She crumpled to the floor, the sudden emptiness of her mind crashing in around her as she tried to disassociate the pain.

"Get out." he hissed. "Go salvage your sanity."

Scully pushed herself to her feet, reeling back again the door as she did so. The nausea was back, worse than even the first time. She opened the door and didn't even bother to shut it because this time she was going to walk away. There was nothing more to be afraid of. Pavlov had thrown his best at her and she had beaten him back.

Only now, as she racked her brain for memories of Mulder or life before or anything but found only nothing, she doubted that she was truly the winner.

The inside of her stomach began to lurch toward her mouth very quickly and she had to run behind a building in order to make it before the vomiting started. The convulsions of her stomach left her on her knees as she threw up what little food she had. Unlike the first time, her body couldn't be convinced to stop when it was empty, and she continued to retch until she was coughing up blood. It mixed with the blood from her nose until all she could taste was it's metallic saltiness, which made her even sicker. She rolled to her side, not caring if she landed in the stuff.

A pair of strong arms caught her before she hit the ground. She looked up to see who it was, and through the red tint of the world she could make out Mulder, holding her up despite the blood that was running down his arms and staining his shirt.

Mulder supported her as gently as he could, holding her hair back when she turned her face away from him just as another mouthful of blood hit the dirt. The sour smell of bile hit his senses, making him gag on reflex. He shifted his arms around to get a better grip around her. She could be angry at him all she wanted to later, but he wasn't going to leave her alone this time.

"Make it stop..." her voice was weak, a whisper around the gagging in her throat. "Make him stop...."

The note of pleading in her tone was something he had never heard before, and it scared him more than the blood. He wished he could find an answer to give her. Visions of Pavlov melting into a tiny puddle of green goo and then him and Scully stepping in it danced through his head as he held her until she finished spitting up blood. After a few added moments of dry heaves, she lay motionless in his arms, too weak to do much more.

Her eyes were vacant once again as she stared up into the sky, but her hand rested in his. Mulder wiped the area of her nose and mouth clean with his sleeve, feeling sick himself but ignoring the sensation.

<Make it stop...> He couldn't shake the simple desperation in her voice as he lifted her off the ground to carry her back into the barracks. <Make him stop...>

He wished he knew how.

***********

Pavlov watched Mulder walk across the courtyard, carrying Scully as he went. Behind him on his desks lay transcripts of Mulder's last five sessions, each one more punishing than the last. But still the human held on. It had been something of a puzzle to his mind until now. Dana was the key. He suspected it all along, but the battle he had fought and lost had drawn his attentions away from the obvious. Now that she had been shattered, Mulder would be looking for a way to put the pieces back together.

All he had to do was offer one.

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

Mulder was having an increasingly hard time keeping the fury boiling inside him from exploding out. He had spent all of last night holding what was left of Scully in his arms, as if he was the only thing that kept her together. Maybe he was, he didn't know. He was certain, however, that the man who wanted to see him was responsible for it.

Pavlov had called for him to meet him in his office..

Until now Mulder had thought he knew what hatred was. He thought he had hated. But nothing he had ever felt before compared to the way his hot anger cooled to hard steel when the door opened and he found himself face to face with the alien.

"Come in and have a seat, Mulder." his voice was syrupy was false cheer that Mulder hoped he would choke on.

"I prefer to stand."

"As you wish," Pavlov said. He stayed in his seat for a moment longer and then rose to his feet. "We won't be here long, anyway."

"I take it this isn't an interrogation."

"You are correct in assuming that. I've been reading the transcripts of your last few interrogations, and I must applaud you. Your resistance to our methods has been exemplary."

"Is that so."

"Yes. My attentions as of late have been..." He couldn't quite keep the smile off his face. "Elsewhere, but I'm sure you know that. Today I thought you might like a change of pace. Come with me."

"And if I don't want to?"

"Oh let's not be unpleasant, shall we?" He opened a door in the back of his office and motioned for Mulder to walk through. "You should consider this a privilege. No mere prisoner has seen what you are about to. It is normally reserved for those with power, influence. Think of it as an honor."

Mulder didn't answer as they walked down a dimly lit corridor into a part of the building he didn't even know existed. His mind was occupied with the twin tasks of trying to figure out what Pavlov was up to and resisting the temptation to attack the man while he had a chance. Before he could reach a conclusion on either matter, they arrived at a plain wooden door guarded by one sentry with the biggest AK-47 Mulder had ever seen. The guard stiffened to attention when he saw Palov. Mulder noted with mild interest that it was a Kurt Crawford clone.

"This is KC-371." Pavlov said. "He will be your escort once we are inside." He nodded to the clone, who stepped forward and snapped pair of handcuffs around his wrist then attached the other side to Mulder's.

"Oh so this is kind of a look but don't touch thing?" he asked Pavlov. "Or are you just afraid I'll bolt."

"Let's just say that you might find some of this a little unsettling. We can't have you causing trouble."

He walked through the door and the Crawford clone pulled Mulder after him. The outer door led through a short, dark foyer to another door bursting at the seams with light. Mulder could heard a muffled thud that sounded almost like a gavel on wood. He was going to see a trial?

They walked through the second door and that idea vanished quickly. He found himself standing near the back of a room filled with a number of high-ranking Enforcer and military officials, not to mention several faces of his old Consortium enemies. One face in particular drew his interest, surrounded by a cloud of smoke as he gazed with interest at the center of the room.

In fact, they all were staring at the center of the room.

Mulder became aware of the banter of an auctioneer and suddenly decided he didn't want to see anything more. By this time he had no choice- Pavlov and the clone had already pulled him to the very front of the crowd. His stomach curled into a mixture of hate and anger and disgust. A girl not a day over fourteen stood in the center of the room, her head bowed as the men cast their bids on her. A black metal collar was connected by chain to shackles on her wrists and ankles. Now that he was closer, he could hear what the auctioneer was saying.

"Oh come now gentlemen, only thirty-two hundred? Certainly she's worth more than that. A fine young specimen, not even here a week. She has a clean bill of health and she's fresh off the press gentleman. Who wants to be the first to own this lovely young woman?" Hands were raised, bids called out, until the gavel beat the closing of the deal at thirty-five hundred.

The girl's new owner, a man wearing a military uniform with a sagging paunch and beady black eyes, stepped forward, grabbing the girl's chin and pulling her face up. Unabashed fear glowed from her eyes as he stroked the skin of her face with his finger. When she tried to pull away, the man knocked her to the floor with one sweep of his fist.

Mulder moved forward to teach him a thing or two about the bad ethics of hitting girls but the handcuffs yanked him back. He could only watch in helpless frustration as the girl lay on the floor, sobbing softly to herself as two more Crawford clones removed her from the room.

"Where is she going?" he asked Pavlov, even though it meant talking to him.

"Oh, no sales are final until authorized by the warden. It's just a technicality really, to make sure that it's all legal." he held up his hand to silence Mulder's retort. "You'll want to pay attention. I think the next piece of merchandise will be of interest to you."

The realization of his truth was like a guillotine- first painful and then numb as the shock fully set in. A door to the left of the room was opening.... <No it can't be.....he wouldn't dare.> He had dared. The room was silent in expecation. Or was it just his own senses magnifying the clank of chains and thud of footsteps as the next "merchandise" into the room?

<He's bluffing...he's not going to makemewatchthis... not *this*> The last word stopped cold as she walked into the room. Mulder almost succeeded in convincing himself that there was someone else in the camp with her build, her carriage.

Then she lifted her head to meet the room and his heart stopped.

It was Scully.

There was no denying her face, the quiet pride that shone for her eyes as she stood as tall as the chains would allow her. A ripple of whispers spread across the room, and Mulder wanted to scream long and loud and drown them out. Yes, she was beautiful in the way that drove men insane when matched with her strength. But she was not any man's *possession* She was not a thing to be gawked at and whispered about and bid upon.

She was something to die for and he had never felt it so keenly as the moment her eyes hit his.

<Don't look at me like that Mulder.> Scully sent her wish into from the silence of her mind into the racket of his, almost believing he could hear her. She had determined she would be strong before she ever set foot in the room, that she would walk as a human and not as a slave, but this only reinforced it. She didn't know why he was here, until her eyes made it to down to the silver bracelet, followed it to the guard and noticed Pavlov standing over the whole thing like head demon.

Until now she hadn't been sure if she was strong anymore, if she could be. But she had the motivations of hate and love and sheer defiance that she recognized as integral parts of herself thought long lost in Pavlov's chair. They kept her standing up straight as the auctioneer began again.

"Up next we have something for those of you man enough to want a challenge." Somewhere in the room someone laughed and Mulder wanted to strangle him. "She's ex-resistance, but just look at her. A little of the belt and she'll add fire to anyone's life. Who'll start the bidding at twenty-five hundred ?"

"Twenty-five hundred." A young, cocky looking officer who couldn't keep his eyes off her body raised his hand.

"Twenty-seven." The same officer who had bought the girl made the next bid.

Things heated up after that, and the bids flew thick and fast until Mulder could no longer tell who was naming what price. Scully didn't seem to notice them, her eyes filled with the fierce storm of emotion he had come to recognize from other times when she had stood up to impossible things.

"Twenty." A voice boomed from the back corner of the room and silence reigned supreme. Mulder recognized the voice and obviously the rest of the room respected it enough not to comment on the absurdity of offering a bid lower than the last.

"I'm sorry...sir..." The auctioneer himself seemed a little nervous as the man walked towards the center of the room. "but the bidding started at twenty five."

"Twenty *thousand.*." The Cigarette-Smoking Man breathed a cloud of smoke into the air as a frenzy of not quite soft enough whispers of amazement filled the room at his back.

The auctioneer gathered his compsure enough to pick up his gavel. "The bidding stands at twenty.... thousand.....dollars. Any other bids ?" He didn't even have to wait for replies that wouldn't come. "Sold."

The thud of the gavel on the wood told Mulder that it was written in stone. Scully's eyes were once more locked inside his, a minute speck of horror she would only let him see skirting the edges of her vision. Then the Smoking Man stepped in front of her and that speck disappeared.

He stared at her for a moment, taking a long draw of the cancer stick in his mouth, as if to appraise her true value. His fingers started at her hairline and ran down the side of her face and neck to her shoulders. Scully stiffened, ignoring him, choosing instead to stare over his shoulder at Mulder. From this short distance she could easily see his body quivering with a rage kept in check only by the handcuffs.

The Smoking Man realized she wasn't looking at him and followed her gaze until he too saw Mulder. "Has your lover come to wish you farewell?" he asked. "You know he can be of no help to you now that you belong to me."

"I belong to no one. Least of all you."

Mulder's gaze was nothing less than murder as he stared at the old man. His vow of revenge was silent to all except the halls of his own mind. The Cigarette- Smoking Man smiled around his cigarette, a very slow mocking smile.

Turning back to Scully, he crushed the butt of his cigarette on the side of her neck. Mulder noticed her flinch, and he shot forward, ready to take the cigarette and shove it down the man's throat. He made it two steps before the clone jerked him back again. The Smoking Man smiled again, and then waved to the other clones.

"Take her away."

Scully met his gaze one last time, but only for a moment before she turned and followed the clones out of the room. Mulder stared after her until the Crawford began to pull him in the direction of the door. Right before they left the room, he recognized another familiar enemy.

Krycek leaned against the wall in a corner, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. When Mulder saw his eyes he could have sworn he saw pity, even sympathy. It didn't make sense and the notion was easy to dismiss in favor of the fresh supply of hate within him as they walked back to Pavlov's office.

"Well, how did you like it ?"

"What do you want from me ?" Mulder rubbed his wrist where the handcuff had left a red circle.

"Ah, the question I'd never thought you'd ask." Pavlov sat down behind his desk and motioned to the chair in front of it. "Will you take a seat ?"

Mulder considered refusing, but ended up sitting.

"I know of your record, Mulder. You can be a tremendous asset to whatever group you align yourself with. Don't think that because we are enemies I haven't noticed it."

"Cut the crap and just tell me what you want me to do."

"Very well. I am prepared to offer you a position with us. You will have your freedom, money, and anything else that might cross your mind. Including her freedom."

"Isn't it a tad late for that?"

"Not at all." Pavlov leaned forward in his desk. "Remember, the sale has to be approved to be legal. One word from me and that little scene you watched never happened. Think about it Mulder. Think where she's going and then decide if you want to be the one that sent her there."

"You want me to turn traitor." Mulder believed what they were asking him more than he believed the fact that he was actually considering it.

"I've put a delay order on Scully's paperwork. Take some time and think about it. But not too much time. Her owner has put considerable pressure on us to get the legal stuff over with quickly."

"I'll be he has..." Mulder muttered under his breath. "Is that all?"

"Yes." Pavlov said. "You may go." He had seen the look in Mulder's eyes at the thought of Scully's freedom. The bait and been set, the trap had been sprung.

And something told him Mulder would be back in his office very, very soon.

to be continued... part 8