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 12/12
darkstar
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Morning found him still on the shore, kept company by
a very inquisitive flock of seagulls who scattered the
moment he sat up. Disorientation burned away like mist
under the sun to give place to the deep-seated pain that
had followed him into sleep.

Scully hated him.

She had heard his explanations, read his motivations
and trampled on his soul when she had walked away without
so much as a backward glance. Was it so easy for her
to hate him? Mulder didn't know why it wouldn't be
He was thoroughly sickened in disgust with himself.

Sometime he would have to go back to the
house and face her and Skinner and the look of
sad betrayal that would paint each of their faces.
Sometime was not now. The sea hadn't changed
overnight, still as vast and timeless as always.
The thought struck him that it would be easy, oh
so easy, to start swimming slip quietly away
from himself and the rest of the world. He certainly
would not be missed.

But that would be running away. If he was
brutally honest, that summed up his problems in
one nice neat little ball. He might say the time he
had spent with the Enforcers was against his will, and
it would be a layer of the truth, but he had been
running. From his guilt, from his pain, from
his sister's memories. When he could run no
longer, he had literally fled. Then when he found
the thing he most ached for, when he had found Scully,
he had run away from the truth about himself.

He could kid himself all he wanted that the
deception was to spare her feelings. Mulder knew that
in reality it was to save his own. To keep the fragile
illusion that he could be her white knight going for
just a little while longer. Everything he believed about
himself was centered in her belief of him. That belief
was gone, dashed to pieces by his own manipulations and
lies.

Enough of running and hiding. He would face all of
his demons all at once. Then he would destroy them and
himself in the same process. Would that make her happy?
Would it atone for the misery he brought into her life?
It would have been so much better if Pavlov had killed
him, or if he had bled to death afterwards in the mud.
A tall shadow fell across the sand beside him and Mulder
looked up to see his former boss standing over his
shoulder.

"You never did tell me about those loose ends
you mentioned. " Skinner said. "I wouldn't be asking,
but I thought it might help clear up a little mystery.
Like why Scully came in last night looking like she
wanted to cry. She might have in her room- I didn't
follow her. Why she hasn't said a word all day today.
Little details like that." His jaw tightened as his
gaze pierced Mulder's. "She's protecting your secret
but she doesn't have to. How long did you work for
them?"

"Up until three months ago."

"I know you had your reasons but for her sake
and yours I hope they're good."

"The head interrogator offered me a deal. Sell
out and she got out."

"Did you have a choice?"

"Not one that I'd ever make." Mulder rose to
his feet, brushing off the sand that coated the back
of him. "She had been sold. Not just to your average
run-of-the-mill hormonal pervert. The Smoking Man
bought her. I couldn't let her be reduced to that...
to him." He stopped talking, waiting for the harsh
words he knew were coming, for Skinner to shoot him
or hit him or anything. If the AD lost control in any
way, he hid it well.

Skinner felt what could have been anger toward
Mulder change course for the kind of understanding and
sympathy that could only have come from one who had
walked the same bloody road himself. He remembered
the devil deals he had made, of one in particular when
he too tried to bargain for Scully's life. The only
difference was, he had lost. Now, staring at the
demons in Mulder's eyes, he wondered if he was
seeing himself if things had gone differently.
"Why didn't you just tell her?" he asked.

"You know how she is, sir. She would never have
let me do it. If she thought I was alive, she would
have driven you insane trying to find me. And I...I didn't
want her to know."

"I know you may not believe it now," Skinner said.
"But you're no sellout."

Mulder's smile was bitter. "Try telling that to
her."

"I don't think I have to. She understands more than
you give her credit for. Just give her some time to
digest it, and then talk to her again."

"No." He said the word simply, without emotion.
"I've done too much damage already. I'll just take my
bags and be gone."

"Mulder, you've gone through too much to let this
die. Both of you have. I saw the scars. What gave them
to you, I can't imagine."

"I ran into an alien. I fought him."

"And lived?!?" Skinner asked, disbeliving,
a new respect in his eyes for the man in front of him.

Mulder shrugged, walking toward the house. "I
thought I was lucky then. Guess I was wrong."

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

A light rain cried all the tears she couldn't as
Scully looked out the window, watching the raindrops
slide down the pane. Mulder was gone. When he had
walked into the house, she almost hoped that he would
want to talk, would say anything to her. But he had
only looked at her once, and even that was out of
the corner of his eye on his way back out the door.

He hated her. Hated her for giving him reason to
commit such nightmares, for consigning him to live and
dwell among the men he most hated. She was so
sick of being used as a tool to find chinks in his armor.
Since her abduction, Scully had lost count of the times
They had hurt him through her. And now those
same people used her again, forced him to make a choice.
Her or Samantha.

Why he had chosen her, she couldn't fathom. She was
nothing more than a thorn in his side, a weight to drag
him down. Samantha embodied his life and his hope and his
love, the reason he set out to find Truth in the first
place. Why he killed his sister to save for her the
rags of her dignity, Scully didn't know. It certainly
wasn't worth it- she wasn't worth it. Maybe he did it
out of duty, maybe out of obligation.

Either way she was certain he loathed her for it.

He hadn't even said goodbye. Neither had she. As
much as she long to beg him to stay, she would not.
Could not. The barriers of pride were stubborn, and
strong. So she had watched him go through a blurry
film of tears but not once asked him to change his
mind. She couldn't do that to him again, keep him
somewhere she knew he didn't want to be.

"He thinks you hate him." She turned to see
Skinner sitting in his accustomed chair, watching her
calmly.

"How could he?" she asked, astonished. "I'm the
one to hate. I caused all this..."

"Stop that." His voice sharpened a little with the
command, then eased up again. "Mulder makes his choices
for himself. We can't change his mind any easier than
we can change him, once he gets set on something."

"It doesn't really matter." Scully said, not
even bothering to make an attempt at actually believing
what she was saying. "He's gone now."

"Then I suggest you go after him."

"I can't." It would be a weakness, the little woman
running after the man she loved when he did not
want her. <I said love...is that what this feels
like?>

"Why not?"

<Because I'm not that way!> "I just can't."

He stared at her for a moment. "You're a strong
person, Scully. Quite possibly the strongest I've ever
known. But strength like yours can be a virtue or it
can be a crutch."

"I'm not sure I follow you."

"Don't follow me. Follow him. Tell him you forgive
him. It's all he wants to hear."

Did she really? Did she really want to forgive and
forget all the heartache he had put her through, and
forgive herself in the same moment? "It's too late."

"I got here ten minutes after he left. He can't
be much more than fifteen minutes away. Which way
was he headed?"

"To the coast I think. North, like he was following
it to the mountains."

"He can't be that far away. Do it Scully. Do
it for him, do it for yourself. If nothing else do it
because it's just the right thing to do. But get out
and stop him."

She smiled a little, her mind made up. Leaving
the window, she walked over to the door, not bothering
to put on a jacket. She had always like the rain
anyway, the gentle soothing feel of moisture on her skin.
The rain fall was so light, it hadn't been able to wash
away his footprints in the sand.

One by one they stretched in a line beside the
ocean and one by one she followed them.

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

The rain began to fall harder as her steps took her
away from the indian village and higher into the green
slopes of the mountains. She had all but lost his trail,
but the chieftain said a white man had passed through
town before she had, heading for the rocks. This was
the only trail fit for any human to take, and while
Mulder was agile, he was no mountain goat. Or so she hoped.
Questions and doubts assailed her with the quickening of
the rain fall. <You're a fool, Dana. He could never
want you. What makes you think he could ever listen to
what you have to say?>

The rocky path forced her to concentrate on her
footing, not on the voices of her own fear, and Scully
devoted all her energy to moving faster so she could
drown them out completely.

The air was thin, though he was not very high up
at all yet, causing him to pant for breath as he sat
down on a moss covered log. His hair and clothes
were soaked with the rain, but they could have been on
fire and he wouldn't have noticed. His gun was dry and
so was the Bullet he had been saving.

It was a good place to die. The mountains sloped
up from the south, growing larger and larger like great
emeralds as they expanded north and east. To the west,
directly in front of him, stretched the sea like a cloth
made of beaten sapphire. The cliff he was standing on was
about two hundred feet over the water, falling down
in a waterfall of rock into the ocean below. Perhaps
he would stand up when he died, so he would fall
into the sea. Make up for all those times he had
forgotten to feed his fish. Better yet, no one would
find his body.

Not that anyone would be looking.

Death was patient enough when you wanted to help
him along, and Mulder felt no need to rush as he set
his pack beside him. He opened it, taking out two
pictures. One was older than the other, the colors faded
with age and wear, but both were crinkled with the marks
of frequent handling. One was of his sister Samantha,
smiling as she posed beside a boyish version of himself
for the camera.

<Her smile never changed. Not even before she died.>

The second was the newer of the two, a polaroid
snapshot with Scully's face eyeing the camera in
an expression halfway between amused exasperation and a
smile. Her eyes were sparkling, and though there were
faint shadows under her eyes, she looked genuinely
happy. Mulder remembered the day he had taken it, right
after her cancer had gone into remission, which was
probably what made the shadows. He had found an old
polaroid in a desk drawer with a few exposures left,
and under pretense of "using the rest of the film" he
had taken several pictures of the office and Scully.
This was the only one left. Even looking at it now, he
could remember like it was yesterday.

Life had been sweet, happy, and oh so fresh since
news of her remission. He had almost lost her then, and
the memory of the simple joy in knowing she was going
to live radiated through the photo.

With such tenderness more like a gesture of
reverence, Mulder ran his fingers over her face lovingly,
then folded the photo in two. He placed it along with Sam's
picture in his pocket.

The next object he took from the bag was sentimental
in a much different way. Every piece of metal that
fashioned his 9 mm was etched with memories, those that
were dark and cruel and rank with despair. He recalled
Scully's words once, that those who lived by the gun
died by the gun.

She had meant it to make a point, but it was
as true then as it would become in a few moments. True
in a very, very personal way.

**********

Her problems started with a fork in the trail. The
path branched off in two directions, one leading to down
to a small cliff and the other snaking up and northward
into the heart of the mountains. Logic told her that if
Mulder was going away, he would have taken the high road.
A nagging little whisper that refused to be silenced
told her to follow the lower road, but it could not
explain why.

It made no sense at all, but something about that
road felt like Mulder. The same feeling was coupled with
a sense of urgency she couldn't put her finger on to
determine the cause. It was the same feeling she had
felt the other night, like something dreadful was going
to happen, something unknown. Scully bit her lip, knowing
she would kick herself later for following an emotion,
and walked down the lower path.

Just because the elevation wasn't as high didn't
make the going any easier. The rain turned the path
treacherous, and Scully found herself sliding as much
as she walked. The skin of her palms was torn, bleeding
in places from the sharp rocks her hands seemed to hone
in on. Still she pushed on, faster and faster, as
the urgency grew with each step.

She first spotted the ocean, glittering under the
sun, when she was on top of a small pile of rocks that
led down to the ledge of the cliff itself. Her gaze
zoomed closer when she first noticed the unnatural black
of an overcoat, her eyes expanding the vision to
include the man wearing it.

A man facing the ocean. With a gun to his head.
And his fingers on the trigger.

"Mulder!!" the pieces flew together and out of
her mouth in a scream. Forgetting where she stood, Scully
stepped toward him, her legs folding under her when the
step landed on air. She fell down the pile of rocks on
her knees, the top two layers of skin peeling back until
she landed on the ground. The pain was all but ignored.
Mulder...she had to get to Mulder...had to stop him...

He whirled, frozen in surprise to see her and then
in surprise to see her fall. "Scully- what are you
doing here?" The gun didn't move from his head but
then again his finger didn't tighten.

She pushed herself to her feet, gasping for breath
in between her words as she spoke. "Forget me...what
are !you! doing?!?"

Mulder's face was frightening in the lack of emotion
he showed when he answered. "Taking care of business."

"With a gun to your head!"

"Go away, Scully. This doesn't concern you." He
eyed the blood on her hands and now running down her
legs. She had rushed....but why? She shouldn't be
here, not when she had made it so crystal clear she
wanted nothing to do with him.

She looked like she had rushed to see him, but
why? She had made it perfectly clear she wanted nothing
to do with him.

"You're wrong." She moved closer to him, until
he began to move back. "It has everything to do with
me." Still breathless, she continued to speak,
throwing pride and caution to the wind.

"I know what you did for me... because of me."
The thought was painful and she swallowed to clear the
tightness in her throat and her chest. "Mulder...I
was angry at first, but only because I thought you
had betrayed me. I trusted you, Mulder. Only you. But
when you told me about your sister I knew the truth."

"Why did you leave?" he asked her.

"I had to. I couldn't stand there and know that
everything you've had to do and have done has been
my fault. If you should point the gun at anyone,
it should be me! I should die! Not you!"

"You haven't done anything, Scully." He said.
"I was wrong to lie. I was wrong to get you captured
in the first place. Now my sister is dead and so
am I."

"Mulder..." she held her hand out toward him,
pleading. "Don't do this. Give me the gun."

"We all have to pay for what we've done. So
excuse me while I finish the job." He edged away from
her, toward the ledge, until he was standing on the
very edge. His fingers tightened on the trigger. . .

"NO!" Scully lunged forward, her hand closing
around his and the gun at the last second, knocking
it back so that the shot went wild and shattered a
rock instead of his skull. But her momentum didn't slow
down and in horror she saw the edge of the cliff hurtle
by underneath her, as she and Mulder plunged
over the edge.

The fall was over very soon, but it passed
like time had been put on slow motion. She was aware of
her screaming, of Mulder's startled cry. Of the way
the colors of green mountain, gray sky, brown rock, and
blue ocean melted together like a smudged oil painting.
Of the rain, falling down in slivers below them and
above them and around them. Of the way his hand found
hers, pulling her close to him even as they fell into something like
certain death. It was all very slow...her stomach rose
up into her throat as they must be gaining speed. . .
the blue of the sea became predominant, edging closer
and closer and closer...

The air was beaten from her lungs by a giant fist
as they plunged through the surface, the icy cold
stealing her breath as much as the force of impact.
Disorientation struck next, and Scully twisted and
turned in a frantic bid to discover the lost path back
to air. Finally she found it, swimming upward in fast,
swift strokes. Her lungs went from burning to screaming
for air and she realized she wasn't going to make it
in time...

A hand grabbed her by the back of neck, hauling
her through the film of the surface and into air. She
gasped for breath, arms flailing wildly until someone
pinned her against them. His voice was soft against
her ear, quick and breathless from leftover panic.

"It's ok..." he soothed her, holding her against
him. "Breathe, Scully. I got you. Just breathe. It's
going to be ok. We're alive."

His touch calmed her as much if not more than his
words, and she opened her eyes to see his face inches
away from hers, eyes flooded with concern.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine." she interrupted, knowing the question
before he asked it. Even when she reassured him, his
arms didn't move from their protective embrace, though
she knew it must be hard for him to tread water and
support her weight. As much as she hated to, she pulled
away enough to start treading water on own, keeping her
hand in his.

"Don't ever scare me like that again." she
said.

"And I suppose that knocking me off a cliff isn't
startling at all in its own right."

"I couldn't let you-"

"You should have." He sighed, looking away from her
back up at the cliff. "I can't live like this.
I can't take the guilt."

"You don't have to."

"But I do." His eyes snapped back to meet hers,
and the raw anguish hurt her more than the fall ever
did. "I shot my sister, Scully. It was really her,
for the first time ever, and she had been in the camp
the whole time, and she had searched for me and..."
his torrent of words slowed again. "I shot her."

The talk was dangerous. Scully knew it and
pulled his chin up with one hand so that they were
eye to eye. "You saved me, Mulder." He had to
believe that, had to know how grateful she was to him.
"Even now I have nightmares about that place, about
the room and the men and the auction. Sometimes in
those dark dreams, the Smoking Man takes me away and
I see what my life would have been like." She shuddered
from more than the water. "But you kept me from all that.
At an unfathomable cost. One that I'm afraid I'm not
worth."

"I'd do it all over again." he said, his eyes
heating up to the familiar intensity that drove her mad.
"In a heartbeat. It's what scares me. I loved- love- my
sister beyond imagine, but I would sacrifice her again.
You are worth it and so much more than I have
left to give. . ."

Now it was her turn for speechlessness. The
subject was growing uncomfortable, hitting closer
and closer to the taboo of her feelings. She found a
smile to put on her face, and cast it with a mischievous
twist in Mulder's direction. "Are we going to swim
here until we become fish bait or are we going to
start heading home?"

"Lead on, Dr. Scully." He smiled back. "In fact,
I'll race ya." No sooner had he gotten the words out
than he was off, cutting through the water back in the
direction of the house.

"Not fair!" Scully stopped long enough to
shout her protest after him but it did no good. He was
already a good fifteen yards ahead of her. Taking
a deep breath, she plunged forward. <So he wants
to cheat. So we can handle that. May the best man...I
mean woman...win.>

"Look who's calling not fair." Mulder complained,
dropping onto the sand, his chest moving up and down as
he tried to catch his breath. "I could have won if you
had told me how fast you could swim. I was taking it
easy on the weaker vessel."

"Weaker indeed." Scully snorted, shaking her head
and smiling for real as she sat down next to him. "This
'vessel' is a Navy brat, remember? I could swim before
I could walk."

He mumbled something unintelligible, then they
both lay side by side in the sand, staring up at the
sky of evening. The rain had stopped mid-way through
the afternoon, the clouds peeling away to reveal
a freshly washed night sky.

"We'd better go." Scully said. "Skinner is going
to be worried." It was still up to her to be the practical
one, now that things were back the way they used to be.

But that wasn't right. Things would never be the
same and both of them knew it. Whether the change was
good or bad, she didn't know.

"Yeah. We wouldn't him to have a stroke or something."

"Mulder," she scolded him. "He's not that much
older than we are."

"Then we'd better get back before we have strokes."

She laughed and rolled to her feet. A sobering
thought penetrated her happiness and when she spoke
again it was much more serious.

"You aren't staying here forever, are you." Her
thoughts ran to the moon and back in the space of silence
before he answered.

"No."

"How long?"

"You'll know when the time comes."

They said nothing more about it, but the phrase
turned over and over in Scully's thoughts on the long
walk home.

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

The more she tried to cling to every day, the
more time slipped like liquid through her fingers until
a week had passed by. She had tried smiling again, and
food was much more interesting than before. But then
every was more alive when he was around, even herself.
Sometimes it was funny, the way they tried to compress
a year of lost time into a few days, like when the village
witch doctor had offered to marry them. Other times
she would remember that nothing lasts, and then a sense
of sadness would set in until Mulder's smile drove it
away again.

Today was different. There was something about
him that had shifted ever so slightly, like each moment
meant more now than before. He brought her flowers at
breakfast. Mulder never brought her flowers. And if
that alone wasn't enough to confirm her growing
realization of what was happening, his bag sat by the
door of his room, neatly packed.

Goodbye was something she had never been very
good at saying, especially to him, so the day wore
on under the beautiful illusion that it would be just
like any other. Until evening, when she found herself
sitting on the porch with Mulder and wondering what
to say that could fill a silence that stifled both of
them. She looked at the sky, she looked at the sea,
until she could run no longer, and looked at him to
bridge her thoughts.

"You're going back to them." It wasn't a question,
not really when the truth was so painfully obvious.

"I have to. Your work on the vaccine can help the
entire world if I can get it to the resistance." His eyes
told her he found no pleasure in the thought.

"Let some else save the world." She said. "We've
played hero long enough."

"You know I can't do that." He sounded so assured,
even to his own ears, that he half-convinced himself.
And he had thought it was hard to leave her then.
Watching from a window was nothing compared to this
closeness, the sad and wonderful pain.

"When are we leaving?"

"We-" Mulder echoed, then shook his head. "No,
Scully, you're not coming with me. Not this time."

"You're going to have to stop me." Scully said,
her jaw tightening as she dug her heels in for a fight.
No way she was going to let him out there without
her. Not a chance.

"I can if you want me to, but I'd rather it not
come to that."

"You don't want me?" Her eyes were blue with
uncertainty in that moment, and Mulder fell over himself
in haste to clear up the misunderstanding.

"It's not that." <Scully, you're the only thing I
want.> "It's too much of a risk. You're safe here. If I
took you with me and someone-anyone- saw you, it would
start all over again. I refuse to let anyone else hurt
you because of me."

"We could be careful." There was hope in her words,
there always had to be hope...

"Not careful enough." His hand closed around hers,
a simple intensity in his eyes begging her to trust him.

Scully had to remind herself that breathing was a
normal body function. What was it in his stare that
had such a power to unnerve her, melt her resolves like
wax under a flame. The same flame that was burning inside
her now, whispering thoughts of strangely familiar desire
in her ears.

"What about Pavlov?" Even now the sound of the
name conjured dark shadows of memories she had tried
to forget, but that still sent chills through her
spine. She could still feel, at times, his hands
on her temples, the ghost of his presence in her mind.
"He'll be suspicious."

Pavlov. He hadn't told her yet, not wanting to
darken the stolen happiness of their time together with
thoughts of that kind of past. "He's dead."

New understanding lit up in her eyes as her fingers
traced the scars on his arm. "Did you fight him?"

"Yes." Mulder looked down at the scars himself,
the searing pain that caused them still in his mind.
"He tracked me when I left. Wanted to find you too.
We fought. I survived."

"What will you tell your superiors?"

"I have a story ready. They'll believe it." It
was a skill he had honed to perfection, the art of
convenient lying.

Another little silence settled over them, each
wondering what to say. Scully picked at the fabric
of her dress as she marshaled her courage to ask the
one question she truly needed an answer to. When he
was coming back. When, not if, as she feared it would
be.

"When you coming back?" She hardly dared speak the
question that came out in a low soft tone between
regular speech and a whisper.

<The million dollar question.> Mulder thought to
himself, sighing at the complete and total honesty of
what he was about to say. In a life of lies and greater
deceptions, he had to be honest with her. Especially
now that he was going back, and wasn't sure how long
he could remain honest with himself.

"I don't know." He said. "Once I'm back in, it'll
be hard to slip out unnoticed. If they got suspicious..."

"I know." Her lips moved in a fraction of a smile.
"Too risky." She raised her eyes to meet his again,
trying desperately to cling to the shreds of her
self control. "Will you kill?"

"If I have to. I'm planning on using my targets
as couriers to get your vaccination work and any other
information I can get to the resistance." It was a
daring plan, bordering insanity, but he didn't care.
Rationality had never been a strong point with him.

"But you'll kill them...if you have to."

He nodded, unable to answer her with words.
The patch of silence stretched longer this time,
and Scully felt she would scream if for no other reason
than to make noise. A glint of gold around his neck
caught his eye and coaxed a smile into life.

"You wore it." She said, touching the necklace
lovingly with her finger.

"Always. Didn't I say we'd see each other again?"

"Since when do I believe everything you tell me?"

"Since you do you believe anything I tell you?"
He unclasped the necklace and held it out to her. "I used
to wonder how a piece of metal and gold could mean so
much to you, but now I know. I've lost count of the times
I would see it and remember you when I thought I
couldn't stay sane another day."

Uh-oh, they were nearing the minefield again, that
area of conversation charged with explosive true
feelings. Mulder's emotions were beginning to show
through, as she had expected. If she wasn't careful
she would fall into her own feelings and wouldn't
that be a mess. But she craved the release so
badly, more than she craved her next breath...

"Keep it." She closed his fingers around the
cross. "You need it more than I do anyway. Maybe
it'll keep you out of trouble." Scully didn't add
what she was thinking. <Since I can't.>

"Let's not ask for too much." Mulder let got of
her hand long enough to fasten it around his neck
again. When his eyes grabbed hers, she knew she was
in too deep, that she should get away very quickly
before something happened that they would both
regret.

"I have to go." She said, turning away from
him. <Walk away, don't lookbackwalkawayfasterfaster
faster...>

"Why?" His hand captured hers, and she was
struck paralyzed, unable to pull away yet unwilling to
look at him. She feared nothing more than what she would
see not in him but in herself. He cupped her face with his
hand, turning it back toward him.

"Why can't you let down the walls?" That voice,
his voice, unnerved her. "Why do you
always push away?"

"I...have...that is I..." Scully gave up on
the explanation she knew would never get it out right.
Partly because she didn't have one. Not now. "We can't."
His arms were on either side of her, trapping her
in a prison that was gentle like velvet but strong
as iron. She couldn't escape.

"Tell me why we can't." He could see it in her
eyes, the pieces of her marble façade crumbling in
bits and pieces to reveal the light of her soul. Mulder
felt himself drawn toward that light like a moth
pulled toward a fire. This felt so right- what could
she have to hold back? There was no answer from her,
but her eyes told him she had none.

He was going to take another risk.

She didn't want to do this. She wanted to do this.
He was leaning forward. She should pull back. She should
meet him halfway. This was not happening. This was
not. . . Her thoughts came to a screeching halt as he
touched his lips to hers.

At first she was paralyzed, shocked by the
contact. It was a kiss that was not a kiss,
hesitant and uncertain much like his eyes when he
pulled away, waiting for her reaction. For a moment
she didn't know if she could respond. Then she
knew beyond a shadow of doubt she could, and what she
wanted to do.

A horrible feeling took root in his gut and
spread through his body. He had done something wrong,
had taken a liberty that was not meant to be. She
wasn't moving, wasn't talking. She didn't want the
same thing he did.

"Scully, I'm sorry-"

She cut him off in a second kiss that was neither
hesitant nor uncertain. It started slow, soft, building
intensity until it was like a star was being born
between them, in glowing whites and electric blues that
couldn't drown out the color of her eyes. He lived
and died and found paradise all in the few heartbeats
before she moved back, resting her forehead against
his.

Stars did not explode. Mountains did not fall.
The sea did not dry up. If the earth stopped spinning,
she didn't notice it. The absence of sound was sweet,
almost like a drop of sugar melting on her tongue. If
only for a moment, the universe had existed for them
and them alone. Then the moment was gone, dissolved as
she watched helplessly.

Words seemed criminal but she spoke anyway.

"Good night, Mulder."

She planted a kiss on his forehead, then disentangled
herself from his arms. His gaze continued to surround
her completely, a sad smile leaping from him to her
like a charge of static electricity.

Scully realized he knew the same thing she did.
She had said good night because she simply could
not tell him goodbye.

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

In the moment before she opened her eyes, she
knew he was gone. The pale light of a day freshly
dawned flooded her window, but the morning felt
different. Or was it her that had changed? She lay
on her back, not moving yet, the tingle playing
along the edges of her nerves. Did she want to get up
and see if her gut feelings were real or did she want
to go back to sleep and pretend otherwise?

A few more hours wouldn't make much of a difference,
even on the slim chance that she could sleep again.

She stood up, touching the crucifix and reciting a
hasty Hail Mary as she left her room. The door leading
to the porch was open, and the morning air was cool on her
legs as she walked down the hall. Another door stood ajar
as well, the door to the room he had slept in. Scully
took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she pushed the
door open. Not wanting to believe even now, that this
was it.

The room was empty, the light playing on a
neatly made bed and tidy floor. The space looked larger,
perhaps because she felt the hole around her own heart
so keenly. She took a step forward, then another,
allowing herself to imagine him in the room. Picking
up a pillow, Scully buried her face in it, inhaling
deeply the scent of salt and spice.

She smiled. It still smelled like him.

The room's only window lent a breathtaking
view of distant mountains in the north. If she
closed her eyes and concentrated, Scully could see
the scenery clearer in her mind. The wet, cool sand
of the shore. The huts and buildings and fishing boats
of the village. Finally, the rocky faces of the
mountains themselves, bearded with green. He was
somewhere in those mountains. She wondered if he felt
the same rays of sun that caressed her skin now.

She chose to believe he did.

Her arms were reluctant to put down the pillow,
but she did, smoothing the wrinkles out carefully.
There would be no tangible evidence of his stay, only
the pictures and sensations of her own mind. She left
the room behind, shutting the door carefully, and
walked out to the porch. Skinner was sitting on the
steps, his eyes turning from the sea to her when he
noticed her presence.

"He left a couple hours before dawn." He said,
anticipating her question. "He... said it would be
better not to say goodbye."

"It was." Scully nodded. There was no goodbye
that needed to be said. If she didn't have to watch
him leave, it was so much easier to pretend that he
was here, safe with her. That he wasn't risking his
life alone for a world that didn't care. Except for her.
She cared with ever fiber of passion
in her soul.

The porch looked different in morning. She
found herself almost unsure whether last night had been
real or just another beautiful dream. Unconsciously,
her hand went up to touch her lips. It was real. No
question there.

And his promise had been real too. A vow made to
her without words and sealed with a kiss and something
more powerful. When he had put on her cross, he had
swore to come back alive. She in turn had promised to
keep the faith until he did.

With a small sigh, she walked back inside, down the
lonely hallway to her room. Later she would think about
the repercussions of his actions, of the lives he would
have to take and the blood he would shed. Later she would
worry about the possibilities if he was found out.

This morning she had to run a follow up visit
on the chieftain's twins, both of which were driving
the mother up the wall with cases of colic. Then she
would spend the rest of the day gathering herbs to
replenish her dwindling medicine supply. Maybe in the
end she would take a walk along the ocean. Then she
would go to sleep and wake up and do much of the same
thing.

But she would keep her promise. She would live
for his return and with his memories.

Taking a dress out of the closet, Scully held
it against her in the mirror. It was rather new, or
at least she had never worn it before. She looked up
from the dress, startled by the face reflected back
at her. It was as if she was looking at herself for
the first time in a long, long time.

A tiny smile skimmed along her lips, like a
stone tossed over water, to splash into her eyes. Yes,
the red dress would be quite nice after all.

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

A long tongue of flame licked hungrily at the
edges of the paper, turning it brownish yellow right
before it digested it's latest bite completely into ash.
Mulder dropped it on the table, watching it burn.

"You really should find another way to feed
those pyromaniac tendencies of yours." Krycek said,
eyeing both the fire and Mulder. "And explain to me
again how you managed to turn a death sentence into a
commendation."

"Rule of thumb. People in power are always
willing to move the blame to someone with a position
they want."

"So you pinned it on our friend Pavlov. What
did you tell the High Command anyway?"

He smiled a little as the fire continued to nibble
away at the commendation. "That while we were on leave
we discovered Pavlov and a renegade shadow team selling
sensitive secrets to the resistance. Of course I had
all the documentation and back account numbers I needed
to back up my claims."

"Forgeries, of course."

"The only way to go. Actually it was easier than
it sounds. As it turned out Pavlov wasn't the most
popular guy in the world, and a lot of them had old
scores to settle. I just threw them a bone and let the
dogs go for it."

A smirk spread across Krycek's face. "Letting them
slug it out while the spotlight drifts conveniently
to someone else. Of course that's also quite convenient
because he's dead. You're getting good at this. That
sounds like something I would do."

"Hey now, be nice."

"I was!" He leaned back against the refrigerator.
"So how what the trip?"

"What trip?" Mulder echoed, all innocence.

"Scully."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Despite
the intended seriousness of his tone, he couldn't quite
keep a smile from the corners of his mouth.

"Well I'm glad at least one of us had fun." He
tossed a manila envelope to Mulder. "But it's back to
the salt mines. We've got a hit tonight. And since you
took your sweet time getting back, you get to do the
honors." Krycek walked towards the bedroom. "Wake me
up when it's time to go. And put the fire out before
you set off the smoke alarms again."

"Yes, father." The cheerful note in his voice
disappeared as he opened the envelope. The slip of
paper fluttered out with the name of a the target.
Only one this time, a scientist who was to die for
his work on a vaccine. Could he really do this again,
kill to live and live to kill?

Tonight he was going to find out.

"Take my life! Please, take anything you want,
but spare my work!" the old man winced as another
crash came from his laboratory. That would be Krycek,
doing his part of the mission. Now it was time for
Mulder to do his.

"You'd really die for what you work on." He
said, his voice dripping skepticism.

"Yes...gladly- but leave my work! You're human!
You know what it could mean to us!"

On the outside he was stone and hatred but on the
inside he was smiling. This was the one. The man who
would get the honor of saving the world. "Listen to me
and listen fast." He said. "I'm not going to kill you."

"What?!?"

"Don't ask questions if you want to live."

"But the work-"

"This is your new work." Mulder handed him an
envelope containing all of Scully's notes and a vial
of her blood. His voice fell to a whisper. "The
rudimentary stages of a vaccine."

"A vaccine???" The old man's eyes widened, and he
hastily shoved the envelope inside his lab coat. "Who
are you?"

"A friend who will remain nameless." There was
another series of crashes and the sound of glass
breaking, then Krycek's voice came from the lab.

"I got it all, Mulder. Hurry up and pop the
geezer so we can get outta here early."

"Ok, do exactly as I say." Mulder flipped the
safety off his gun. "I'm going to shoot you."

"I thought you said you-"

"I'm going to miss. You fall down and be a good
little stiff. Don't move until you hear the car pull
away. Then find yourself someplace were you can
disappear. If you're found again they won't be near
as forgiving as I am. Catch my drift?"

The man nodded. "How can I thank you, sir?"

"Don't get caught." His finger squeezed the
trigger just as Krycek's footsteps came toward
them.

The old man's body slumped to the floor.

"What took so long?" Krycek said. "You always
finish before I do."

"He was a talker."

"Oh, one of those?"

"Yep." Mulder walked back out of the building
and toward the car. "Let's go find a bar." They had
to get out just in case the old man couldn't hold
still. "On me."

"In that case lead on."

They were three steps away from the car when a
screamed curse split the air behind them, as did the
sound of a cartridge being jammed into the gun.
He whirled to see a kid not a day older than fifteen
charging toward them, a rifle in his hands. In the
orange glow of a nearby street light, Mulder could see
the murder in the boy's eyes.

Pure instinct moved his hand to draw his gun.
One hair of a second was all it took to pull the
trigger and "neutralize" the "threat" before he was
the one to die. But he couldn't pull the trigger...

"You killed my father you murdering-"

The words turned into a gasp of pain as two bullets
caught the boy in the chest and stomach. The hate in his
eyes changed to pain and fear, and he fell to his knees,
hands dropping the gun to cover his wounds. Blood
bubbled from his mouth and down his neck, mixing with
the stains from his chest.

Mulder turned to see Krycek lower his still
smoking gun, his expression slightly annoyed. "Let's
go get that drink." He said, walking around to the driver's
side of the car. "Let the cleaners take care of him."

The fear in the boy's face intensified at those
words, and he held out his hand out, his
voice raspy and pleading. "Please...shoot...me..." The
boy coughed and winced as more blood came up. "Don't...
leave me...for them."

A moment of pity softened his features as he
moved toward the boy, fingers closing on the trigger
of the gun. <Will you killwillyoukillkillkillkill?>

"If I have to." His whisper was lost amid the
crack of the gun that ended the boy's life. Until now
he had never considered death a favor. It had been so
easy to forget some of the less glorified aspects of
his job.

Like the part where he had to shoot kids in the
head, and then pretend to smile while their blood
still stained his clothes.

"Are you coming?" Krycek called.

"Yeah." Mulder tore his gaze away from the dead
boy and turned toward the car. <Scully, if you saw
me now, would you still embrace me the way you did?>
As he pulled the car door open, he caught a reflection
of himself in the moonlight.

The gold of the cross still glittered around
his neck. He had his answer. He had her. And
he would survive until he saw her again.

Even if he had to save the world to do it.

***********

He lit his cigarette hurriedly, drawing in a
lungful of the savory smoke before breathing it out
to sweeten the air around him. Morleys were very,
very hard to come by these days, and this only the third
pack he had been able to find since the beginning of
colonization. But the Smoking Man had the feeling that
he would be smoking a lot more of them now. It was
just one of the perks his new position offered.

He had to admit, Pavlov's office was nice. The
subtle grandeur of the furnishings remained intact, as
did the girl he had met earlier. She waited for him in
the quarters with all his other slaves, just one more
acquisition to prove his prowess in the new society.
It was too bad about Scully, really, she would have
been quite a trophy once properly tamed...

The smile that the thought gave him vanished when
his secretary, a Samantha clone carefully schooled in the
behaviors of the original, showed a young officer into
the room. "What did you find?" he asked, peering at
the man through the smoke. The soldier was to be
trusted- after all his new rank as Commander had been
a gift meant to earn confidence. The Smoking Man had
not survived by displaying any of the arrogance or
superiority Pavlov did. He preferred to demonstrate
his talents at manipulation in other ways. Like this one.

"Everything you asked, for sir."

Another cycle of smoke passed through his
lungs and out through the corner of his mouth as
he took the envelope the officer laid on his desk,
noting the red CONFIDENTIAL: EYES ONLY stamp. "So
tell me, where did he go?"

"Commander Mulder used a satellite disruptor to
slip away from shadow team surveillance. He then
crossed the border into Mexico at a town known as
Soledad, where he fought and destroyed all members
of the team, including Minister Pavlov." The soldier
recited the facts with the clean crisp tone of a
finely oiled machine. The Smoking Man liked that.
Machines were very useful things, taking orders
without question, and he liked his men to copy them.

"From there where did he go?"

"The trail was cold, since we were starting after
he had already gotten back, but we were able to find
particle signals leftover from the disruptor's original
homing beacon."

"And?" This could turn out to be well worth the
time and trouble, not to mention money, it had cost
to conduct a private search without the knowledge of
the High Command. He leaned forward in his chair,
waiting for the soldier to finish.

"We tracked his destination to a remote part of
western Chile, along the coast. On your orders, sir,
we ran a reconnaissance satellite over the area and
took the photographs in the envelope." The soldier
paused, waiting for him to look over the pictures.

The Smoking Man crushed his old cigarette in an
ashtray and lit a new one as he pulled out the
photographs. This called for a fresh rush of nicotine.
As the drug calmed his nervous system, he found it
quite simple to mask the pleasure at the information.

The top photograph was grainy, blurred like
satellite imagery often was, but the overall picture
was surprisingly clear. He had no trouble at all
making out a woman in a dress the color of red wine
walking away from a house by the ocean. A woman with
short copper hair.

"I trust you told no one of this." It was a
dangerous secret to keep, but very profitable, as
that kind tended to be.

"No sir, but my men can at the target destination
in five hours. I included a mission profile with the
other information. It indicates that we can take the
woman with minimal expenditure of force. When do you
want us to leave?"

"I don't."

"Sir?"

The Smoking Man leaned back in his chair,
letting two tendrils of smoke curl out of his
nostrils like twin snakes. "You've done very well,
Commander. I am impressed." The soldier relaxed
at the praise.

"I do my best sir."

"And I will assume that you will continuing
doing exactly that. Minister Pavlov is gone, tragically,
but now is time for a shift in power among us. If you do
well for me, I will make sure you are in on it when that
shift begins."

"Yes sir. Is that all sir?"

"You may go." He waved the soldier away. "Take
three days paid leave."

"Yes !sir!."

The young man left the room, a smile barely
kept back from his features. Once the door was shut,
the Smoking Man let his own smile out of hiding. The
poor Commander had no idea that he would suffer a tragic
accident on the way out of the building. The information
on his desk was too volatile to entrust to anything
other than his own keeping.

And now the question remained of what to do with
his insurance policy. As much pleasure as it would
bring him to see Mulder's face when he showed him
his precious little secret had been unearthed, that was
not a joy he would indulge in. For now. He would bide
his time, wait until the leverage could be used in a
fitting way. Mulder could be an effective set of eyes
and ears on the inside of things, doubly so since he
was expendable if anything went wrong. Or the
information could be a valuable smokescreen in the event
his own career should ever fall into jeopardy.

He inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs, the
nicotine relaxing his muscles. Sealing the envelope,
he opened the top drawer of his desk and carefully
placed the information in a hidden panel above it.

The game was not over.

It had only just began.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
the end !!!!
yayyy!!!!
::fireworks::
so how did you like it?
send all coments, questions, and all other flavors of
feedback can be sent to: clone347@aol.com
as can david duchovny clones. :P
your comments are worshipped daily with incense and
small shrines.

the Muse and I thank you for reading.
darkstar

Trust No One!!!