Subject: new(1/1) The Deal with the Devil by KMS! 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 comments to: kmspider@aol.com