by KMS!
kmspider@aol.com
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Can't afford to buy 'em.
Characters lovingly borrowed from Carter/1013/Fox.
Rating: G
Classification: SA/Mulderangst
Summary: Unaware of Skinner's deal, Mulder makes his own
bargain.
The Deal with the Devil
by KMS!
kmspider@aol.com
"I have cancer."
"There is about zero chance of survival."
The words went round and round in his head. Cancer.
Inoperable. Brain tumor.
Then Skinner's words: 'You offer him anything and he will
OWN you forever.'
And then his own response: 'I can't stand by and do
nothing.'
So he'd done something. Made the deal with the devil.
It hadn't taken Scully long to find out. He had been
standing in front of his desk, staring blindly at Samantha's
file, when she had stormed in, uttered five words, decked
him with a right cross, then spun on her heels and stormed
back out of the room.
Five little words to seal his betrayal.
'You son of a bitch.' Each word clearly enunciated,
emphasized, pronounced like a death sentence.
Five little words.
Paper from the file had scattered everywhere, falling around
him like a paper blizzard. His body, on the other hand,
went down like a sack of wet sand. The woman had a hell of
a right cross.
Landing awkwardly on the floor, his head had impacted with
the leg of his desk, knocking him unconscious. He had no
idea how long he lay there before Skinner found him. He
roused as Skinner tugged him into a sitting position.
Skinner looked at him with a solemn expression. "I take it
she found out you made a deal?"
"I couldn't let her die. I couldn't."
"I know. I know." Skinner pulled him up to his feet and
took him to the hospital to get checked out before driving
him home.
He awoke later on his couch to find someone shaking his
shoulder. Blinking his eyes open he was relieved to find
Scully standing over him. Relieved and suprised.
She helped him sit up then sat down on the coffee table
facing him. "We need to talk," she stated flatly.
"Why, Scully?" he argued. "I did something you disagree
with. Let that be the end of it."
"GOD DAMN YOU, FOX MULDER! How DARE you do something like
this behind my back. It's MY life you're messing with."
"If I'd told you about it before, you wouldn't have let me
do it."
"No, I wouldn't have. I told you, The X-Files are my life
too now, not just yours. You can't make the decisions for
both of us."
Mulder reached out one hand and cupped her cheek. "I
couldn't lose you, Scully. I couldn't lose another..."
She closed her eyes in resignation, then placed her hand
over his and whispered, "I know, Mulder. I know." Opening
her eyes again she looked into his. "You could have at
least asked, Mulder."
A ghost of a smile flitted across his face before the
anxiety crept back in. "Forgive me? Please?"
She moved into his arms, wrapping hers around his waist.
"Damn you, Mulder," she whispered into his ear.
"Too late," came the quiet reply.
Pulling back, she looked at him again. "So, what kind of a
deal did you make?"
"I don't know yet. He hasn't told me."
Scully rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Remind me never
to send you out to a swap meet, Mulder."
A sad grin stretched his lips.
"I heard Skinner had to take you to emergency."
"Yeah." He gave a rueful chuckle. "You have a hell of a
right hook, Scully. You gave me a slight concussion."
Dana stood up and stepped beside him to take a look at the
golf-ball-sized knot at the back of his head.
"How'd I do that?" He turned to face her and she touched
his bruised jaw with a finger. "I thought I hit you here."
"When I went down, I hit that brick that's holding the
corner of my desk up."
"I told you to tell maintenance to get you a new desk."
"I ain't getting a new desk until you get a desk, Scully."
"And tell me again WHY I don't have my own desk?"
"Well, except for the fact that the office is really cramped
AND they reserve a desk for you down at the Path Labs, not
to mention the cubicle you use up on the third floor, I
think the real question is, why haven't you gotten YOURSELF
a desk before now? You're a take-charge kind of person.
And, as you've pointed out, the X-Files are your life too,
so why do you need my permission?"
Scully smiled at him, "I guess I don't. But it was YOUR
office."
"But now it's ours."
Dana looked pensive for a moment. "Mulder, when I told you
that they were my life too... what were you going to say?"
Mulder paused, screwing up his courage. "I wanted to say,
they were my quest. My heart and soul. Then I thought it
sounded too melodramatic."
She sat beside him, studying his face. "So you're telling
me, you gave up your heart and soul for me?"
Mulder opened his mouth to respond, to deny her conclusions,
but nothing would come out. He would give up the X-Files
for her. He would give up his heart and soul. He already
had.
Dana embraced him again. "Oh, Mulder," she whispered,
resigned. 'Damn you,' she thought. 'Damn you for being so
noble, even when you're doing the wrong thing. Too willing
to sacrifice yourself on the alter of your own guilt.'
Mulder closed his eyes and laid his head on her shoulder,
feeling her small fingers lightly trace the outline of the
goose-egg on the back of his head.
She pulled away. "If you have a concussion, why didn't the
hospital keep you?"
The 'Scully' doctor had arrived. "Because I had myself
released."
With a frown tugging at the corner of her mouth, she
straightened and pushed his shoulder down until he was
laying flat on the couch again. "You need to get some
rest," she informed him.
He grabbed her hand and she looked down into his earnest
face. "Don't leave, Scully. What was wrong with me, no
hospital could fix. I needed to know that you understood.
Even if you disagreed. At least you understand, don't you,
Scully? Don't you?"
Dana sat on the edge of the coffee table again. With her
free hand she reached out and stroked his forehead. With
her other, she squeezed his hand. "Yes, Mulder, I
understand. I don't agree with you. You shouldn't have
made the decision without me, but I do understand."
He closed his eyes in relief before opening them again to
capture hers. "Stay with me tonight, Scully. I don't want
to let you go. Stay with me, here. Please, Scully."
Dana leaned forward and placed a light kiss on his forehead.
"Okay, Mulder. But I get the cushion side, not the
hanging-off-into-space side," she said with a grin. She
crawled over him and settled herself in the small space
between him and the back of the couch, nestling her head on
his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his waist.
She had never felt so warm, so safe, so protected, as she
did at this moment. She drifted off to sleep with one
thought coursing through her head. 'But what was it going
to cost them?'
__________________________________________________
Mulder awoke to find the Alien Bounty Hunter standing over
him. Groggily, he sat up, trying his best not to jostle
Scully. Looking up at the hard face, Mulder shuddered.
"You have one of the weapons. I want it."
Mulder nodded and unsteadily rose to his feet. Walking over
to the fish tank, he opened the lid, then pushing up his
sleeve, stuck his hand into the water. Brushing the small
rocks away from a back corner of the tank, he grasp the
metal cylinder, drawing it out of the tank.
Turning, he handed the object to the morph. The alien
triggered the release and the sharp point of the icepick
snapped into view.
Mulder watched silently, flinching as the weapon was
extended. The morph looked up from his examination of the
weapon and studied Mulder.
"You traded your commitment for the life of the woman,"
indicating the still sleeping Scully.
Mulder nodded, still unable to form words. He watched
closely as the morph crossed the room and sat in the large
armchair on the other side of the room. Sliding the
retractable icepick into his pocket, he motioned Mulder over
to him.
He crossed the small room in a couple of steps, standing
before the alien.
Mulder trembled, feeling small and child-like, standing in
front of the morph.
One large hand reached out, closing around his wrist,
drawing him closer. "Down," the morph softly commanded.
Mulder's knees bent and slowly he slid to the floor, until
he was kneeling at the feet of the morph. The hand on his
wrist slipped up his arm, stopping at his shoulder. The
trembling increased. Softly the morph whispered, "Breath."
Mulder drew in a shuddery breath, only then realizing he had
nearly been panting in terror.
Mulder almost cringed as the morph reached out and laid a
hand on either side of his head. The alien studied his face
a moment, "I need to understand. Three times we have met,
and three times you have been willing to sacrifice yourself
for someone else. First, your sister; then for Jeremiah
Smith, so that he could heal your mother; and now for your
partner. I need to understand this... this need for
self-sacrifice. How you can give up all you believe in for
another."
Mulder swallowed his nervousness and terror and looked
directly in the morph's eyes. "Don't your people believe in
the greater good? Making sacrifices so that someone or
something else can continue to survive? Something more
important than yourself?"
"If I have to die to insure the project, then I will. But
we have studied your people. Your kind does not sacrifice
for the greater good."
Mulder shifted away from the hands and relaxed his body
until he sat back on his heels. Interlacing his fingers, he
stared down at his hands, preparing to answer the question.
"Maybe you just haven't met the right people. No one wants
to die. To end their existence. But friends... family are
important. I would do whatever it takes to bring my sister
back. I failed to protect her once. I failed to bring
Smith back to help my mother. And now Scully... I can't
lose Scully." A note of desperation crept into his voice.
The morph reached down and enclosed Mulder's clasped hands
in his own, drawing Mulder's attention back to him. "Agent
Scully will recover. That has already been assured."
Mulder closed his eyes in relief. Something tight in his
chest eased itself and he felt the release of tension wash
over him like a cool spring. A mental breath he hadn't
realized he was holding, shuddered out of him, eyes pricking
with unshed tears. Swallowing to regain his equilibrium, he
looked up into the hard face before him to find the alien
studying him. Time to move forward to the next square on
the board.
"What now? What do you want from me?"
The morph released his hands and again placed his own on
either side of Mulder's head. "Now you are mine and I will
place my mark upon thee."
Mulder's eyes widened in suprise, the words sounding so
formal. He didn't have much time to react before his head
was urged forward and placed against the alien's knee.
Mulder felt the scratch of the wool pants against his cheek
as the morph's hands shifted, one to the top of his head and
the other over his ear. The alien placed the tip of his
finger behind Mulder's right ear. Suddenly he felt a
burning pressure and tried to pull away, pushing on the
other's arm, trying to make the pain stop. Then, just as
suddenly, it did. The hands released him and he huddled
over himself, clutching his head. But again, the hands
grabbed his head. Wordlessly he protested before he heard
the morph shush him. "Don't fight me. It will not last."
Mulder stilled himself with an effort. The big hands
returned to cover his ear again. The pain eased; what was
once searing, became throbbing, then dulled. And then
disappeared completely.
The hands that held him in place, abruptly released him.
Mulder pushed himself upright and gingerly felt behind his
right ear.
A raised scar, shaped like a Vee, lying on its side, (a
greater-than sign? he thought crazily), rested behind his
ear. Tracing a finger over the scar, he realized he had
seen its like before. Abductees, two women on opposite
sides of the country, and Max Fenig, carried similar scars.
"Now you carry my mark. All will know you are mine."
Slowly Mulder nodded, his fingers never leaving the scar.
Outwardly he was calm. Inside, he could hear his own
terrified screams repeated over and over.
HismarkHismarkHismarkHismark. Mulder swallowed hard and
stilled the inner voices with one word - Scully. Scully was
safe. That was all that mattered.
Mulder watched from the floor as the morph got to his feet.
He leaned down and gently placed a hand on top of Mulder's
head. It felt like he was receiving a benediction. "It
will be okay. You will see. It is never as bad as you
think it will be."
Mulder's eyes shifted to the floor. He sat there a long
time, frozen, carved in marble. The only sign that he
wasn't a statue was the small rise and fall of his chest.
Inside his skull the words repeated themselves over and over
until they filled all the spaces in his brain and no other
thoughts could emerge.
I have sold my soul to the devil.
I have sold my soul to the devil.
I have sold my soul...
I have sold my soul...
...my soul...
...my soul...
His thoughts chased themselves in circles until they became
a thin wail lost in the storm of his mind. The Pilot
finally broke the endless chant by pulling him to his feet
and standing at his side.
Mulder gave him a dull-eyed stare until the Pilot covered
his eyes with one large hand. The other he placed behind
Mulder's back. Just as Mulder frowned, wondering what he
was doing, he felt an electric jolt course through his head.
He let out a quiet gasp before collapsing into the morph's
arms.
Easily lifting him, the Pilot carried him into the bedroom,
straightening out the limp form onto the bed. Returning to
the living room, he picked up the other sleeping agent off
the couch, and placed her in the bed beside Mulder.
Unconsciously she snuggled against Mulder's side, seeking
warmth. Placing a hand on both sleeping heads, the morph
closed his eyes in concentration, keeping his promise,
healing the woman with a touch.
Finishing, he rose to his feet and studied the sleeping
couple. This one had sold the last of his innocence for
her. Not a choice she would have had him make.
Taking a blanket from the end of the bed, he covered both
and left the apartment. It wouldn't do to let his property
get sick before it was time to make use of them.
___________________________________________
THE END
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