From: Lacadiva 
Date: 15 Apr 1998 23:48:47 GMT
Subject: NEW:  ALLEGIANCE (1/3)

ALLEGIANCE (1/3)

by 

Lacadiva

April 1, 1998
Category:  MSR/Friendship/X-File/HCRating PG13/R- for 
violence. Spoilers: Several episodes that cover the 
conspiracy mythology arc. Please feel free to send 
comments.  Please.  Oh please do.Disclaimer:  The 
characters and situations of the television series, The 
X-Files are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox 
Broadcasting, and Ten Thirteen Productions, and have been 
used without permission.  Also, apologies to the makers of 
the film "Jacob's Ladder."  Thank you for inspiring me, 
years later.  NO copyright infringements are intended.  This 
work should not be forwarded or distributed to any 
newsgroup, FTP or Website without expressed permission 
of the author.  Please email me for permission.

Summary:  After Mulder and Scully are wounded in a 
bloody ambush, Scully awakens to find herself in a world 
where The Day has come and gone, and a choice must be 
made between duty and Mulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do not be yoked together with unbelievers.  For what do 
righteousness and wickedness have in common?"
2 Corinthians 6:14
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Allegiance (1/1)


She should have known better, should have known not to 
trust, that the wicked are almost always wicked.  It was not 
supposed to happen this way.  Gunfire left a loud ringing in 
her ears that would not allow her to hear anything else.  
She reached up and touched her forehead, over her left eye.  
Her finger came away wet with blood.  Nausea, dizziness 
and pain quickly overcame her.  Then panic.  /Where's 
Mulder?  Oh God, he's down./

*     *     *

And then she awoke.  Bright light assaulted her eyes and 
she quickly shut them tight again.  Pain slowly crept into 
her consciousness.  /My head-/ 

A voice, deep, curt, professional.  No doubt a doctor.  
That's it, she thought.  Something happened.  An accident?  
Shooting?  

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes," she said.  Her throat was dry and scratchy.  She 
moved to sit up, but dizziness sent her back down on the 
examining table.  "What happened to me?"

"You were ambushed.  A bullet grazed your temple.  It 
wasn't so much the bullet as the fall.  You're very lucky."

Lucky?  Ambush.  Bullet.  Her eyes popped open.  She 
remembered only scattered images, brief inner pictures 
without sound or true definition.  She stared at the face of 
the man in white standing over her.  She tried to sit up 
again, and he reached out.  Warm hands supported her back 
and neck as she was gently pulled into a sitting position.  
And then it hit her.  Mulder-where was Mulder?

"My partner!"

"Your partner?"

"The man I was with, where is he?"

The doctor gestured with his head to a table in a corner.  
On it lay a body covered by a dingy white sheet.  Blood had 
seeped through it.

"I'm afraid he didn't make it."

"No-"

"He took a shot directly through the heart."

"Mulder, no."

"Mulder?"

The doctor moved to the covered corpse and pulled back 
the sheet.  A beautiful face lay frozen on the table, but it 
was not Mulder's.  

She saw a uniform hanging on the door, blood staining the 
front of the fascist black tunic with sky blue and gold 
piping.  Medals.  Shiny gold buttons.  Obviously middle 
echelon.  Black pants.  Black shiny boots.  This was her 
uniform.  When did this become her uniform?

It made no sense at all.  And yet, it made all the sense in 
the world.  The room began to tilt, and everything in it 
seemed to be moving.

"Perhaps you should lie back --"

"No!"  She pushed him away when he reached for her.  She 
slid off the table, holding the sheet around her.  Her legs 
wobbled under her, but she dredged up the control she 
needed.  She walked slowly around the small room, looking 
at and analyzing everything.

"What is this place?  I recognize it, but somehow, it's not 
right.  I know you, but I don't know you."

"You're in the infirmary.  I'm Doctor --"

"Blevins.  You're Blevins."  Eyes wide, she began to 
tremble.  "But you're-you're not-.  Something's not 
right."

"It's not uncommon for things to seem somewhat scrambled 
after head trauma.  You need rest, lots of it.  Perhaps a 
good night's sleep will provide some clarity."

She moved to the uniform and ran a hand over the rough 
woolen material.

"How long was I out?"

"A few hours.  Perhaps your injury is more severe than my 
earlier diagnosis, Sub-commander Scully.  I'm going to 
order a battery of tests --"

She whirled around, back against the wall to support her.  
"What did you say?"

"Tests."

"You called me Sub-commander Scully.  You mean Agent 
Scully, don't you?"

More memories, different memories, flooded her mind.  
Trench coats, Sig Sauers, rental cars, dingy motel rooms.  
Serial killers.  Mysterious disappearances.  Mutants.  
Conspiracies.  Experiments.  Tests.  Abductions. 

Abduction.

It felt as if the floor had been pulled out from under her and 
she was simply falling.  

Doctor Blevins came to her side quickly and helped Scully 
back to the table.

"No!  I don't want to lie down.  I'm fine, Mul-- I'm fine.  I 
need to get back to work.  There's a lot I don't remember.  I 
need to remember who I am."

"I want it on record that I am in protest of your leaving the 
infirmary."

"Noted, doctor."

Scully moved away from him and immodestly dropped her 
sheet.  She reached for the uniform and quickly put it on.  It 
felt familiar against her body, yet foreign at the same time.

"May I suggest," the Doctor said as she headed for the door, 
"that you take a little time to speak with the base counselor 
on duty?  You've been under a tremendous amount of stress 
with this current campaign.  You've lost friends and you 
almost lost your own life.  Perhaps it would be good to talk 
it over with an objective individual."

"I'll consider it."  


*    *    *

She walked the military camp, not knowing where she was 
going but knowing her destination was not far away.  Other 
soldiers of lesser rank stopped to salute her.  She instantly 
saluted back, not knowing why she knew what to do.  The 
muddy camp, protected by electrical fences and barbed 
wire, teeming with soldiers with leashed guard dogs and 
jeeps, seemed like home, and yet there was the feeling that 
she had stepped off the elevator onto a floor that only 
barely resembled her own.  

A man stepped in front of her, blotting out the sun.  He was 
huge, at least six feet seven inches, or taller.  His face 
looked as if it were chiseled stone.  His mouth twisted in an 
attempted smile, but it still seemed malevolent.  Scully felt 
her legs tremble as she looked into his eyes.  She had no 
name for him, but she had a memory of standing, shivering 
on a freezing bridge in the middle of the night.  

She remembered his massive hands holding her by the 
throat, his intention to kill her.  She knew he was not 
human.  He was one of them.  One of the Colonizers.  An 
alien.  She had no name for him but Bounty Hunter.

Her hand shook as she reached for her gun.  She stopped, 
waiting for his attack.  But he simply walked by and 
nodded.  

"Sub-Commander Scully," he said as he passed.

Scully watched him walk away.  It was suddenly quite 
obvious that they were on the same side.  They wore the 
same uniform.  He knew her by name.  This was as it 
should be.  But she could not dismiss the fear.  This was 
not her world, she was convinced.  Yet here she was.

She found her office and entered, feeling safe yet insecure.

She turned on the desk lamp.  Things were neat, orderly, 
organized.  She opened her top desk drawer not knowing 
what she'd find, but feeling relieved when she found her 
gold crucifix lying among the paper clips.

"Have I gone mad?" she asked herself.

"Beg pardon, Sub-commander?"

Scully turned to find a very familiar face.  She smiled, then 
the smile turned to a look of confusion as she realized that 
at some point in her life -- whether this life or another, she 
could not say -- she had seen this man die.  She saw him 
take the bullet, saw him hit the floor, stood over him, 
watched his blood seep between her fingers as she placed 
pressure against the wound, looked into his eyes as the 
moment of death occurred.  Yet here he was, his bright red 
hair cut short in a military buzz, his uniform spotless and 
crisp, a shy, boyish grin on his face.

"May I say," he began, stepping closer to her desk, "that I 
am pleased you are alive, Sub-Commander Scully.  Your 
demise would have been a blow to the Project, and a 
victory to the Resistance we could not afford."

"Thank you," she said weakly.

He moved to her side and pulled her chair out for her.  She 
sat, thankfully.  At least the room did not spin quite so 
much when she was sitting down.

"I hear you've been nominated for commendation.  I am 
proud to serve as your assistant."

"My assistant?"

"Yes.  Is there something I can do for you?"

"How long have you been my assistant?"

"Two years, seven and a half months."

"How has it been?"

"Most rewarding, Sub-Commander."

"How well do you know me?"

"I'm sorry?"

Scully gently touched the thick bandage around her head.  
"My injury has-.  Apparently there are a few 
inconsistencies, gaps, in my memory.  Forgive me."

"No need.  I understand.  And I am happy to help you fill in 
the blanks, Sub-commander.  As for how well I know you, 
let me say that, simply put, I would die for you."

Scully rubbed her head, wishing the ache away.  "I don't 
think that will be necessary."  /Not again, anyway, she 
hoped. /

"Are you sure you're all right?  Perhaps you'd like to go 
back to the infirmary?"

"No."

"Then will you forgive my boldness in suggesting that you 
take it easy for a couple of days?  I will do everything I can 
to cover for you.  I anticipate the rest of the week will be 
spent putting out little Resistance fires and processing new 
prisoners.  I can handle that for you."

"That's not a bad idea."

He headed for the door.  Scully watched him.  She had to 
do it, say it, try it.

"Pendrell?"

He turned with another of his boyish smiles.  "Yes, 
Sub-commander?"

"Where would I find the base counselor?"

"Oh, you mean Doctor Mulder?"

Her breath caught.  Her heart beat quickly in her chest.  She 
felt the room moving again.  

"Doctor Mulder?  Yes.  Doctor Mulder."

"When you're ready to go, I'll escort you myself."

Scully stood on shaky legs.  "Now."

"May I suggest you change your uniform first?"

Scully looked down at the blood stained tunic.  /Good 
idea./

"Ten minutes," she said. 

Pendrell nodded then stood outside the door to wait.


*    *    *

Scully could not stop fidgeting.  She sat in a chair in front 
of the base counselor's desk wondering what would happen 
when he walked in.  Would it be him?  Would he recognize 
her? 

Why was this man so important to her?  She had asked for 
him the infirmary, and now the mere thought of his name 
alone made her anxious, nervous.  Somehow she knew he 
was the key to the strange memories she was experiencing, 
and could help her unlock the mystery to find the truth.

The truth.  

The door opened and a tall dark-haired man entered.  His 
eyes were glued to a file.  He was thin, yet strong.  His hair 
was longer than she had remembered (remembered?).  He 
wore a more casual style of uniform, but in the same fascist 
black with blue and gold.  

And then he looked up.  Hazel met azure blue.  Scully felt 
her stomach tumble.  He smiled.

"Sub-commander.  Sorry to keep you waiting."

Hope faded like a forgotten dream.  If he remembered, he 
could have helped her.  If he remembered, he could have 
helped her place those strange memories, find her way 
back.  He was her proof that something odd was happening.  
But he seemed to remember nothing outside of this world.  
His eyes did not reveal evidence of any special bond.  Hope 
died looking into his eyes.

Scully sat back and looked down at the crucifix, the 
delicate gold chain rapped around her fingers.

"I heard about the ambush," Mulder said as he took a seat 
behind his desk.  "How's the head?

"Fine.  Hurts a bit."

"Blevins give you something for that?"

"Yes."

"Good.  I heard that most of the members of your party are 
dead.  How do you feel about that?"

"What, that they're dead, or that I survived?"

"Either."

"Quite honestly, I don't remember a lot.  Much of the 
incident is sketchy."

"Go on."

"I remember gunfire, and hitting the ground.  And I 
remember being very cold.  That's all."

Mulder rose and moved to a small table with a chrome 
pitcher of water and two small glasses.  He filled both 
glasses and handed one to Scully.  She watched his eyes for 
hints, for clues, but found nothing.  But she had to forge 
ahead.  She had to know.  

"There is something else.  I have this strange feeling that 
none of this is real."

"Can you articulate?"

"Not without sounding like I'm out of my mind."

"I'm not here to judge you.  I want to help."

Scully cleared her throat, searching for a place to begin.  "I 
know where I am, yet I don't.  I feel as if there's something 
else, someplace else I belong, but I'm here.  It's familiar but 
somehow it's wrong.  Blevins-Doctor Blevins said it's 
natural considering my injury, but I don't think it's the 
injury."

"What do you think it is?"

"It think-"  She cleared her throat again.  "I think I was 
abducted once."

"By whom?"

"I don't know."

"And you believe you've been abducted again?"

"I don't know."

Mulder got up and stood behind Scully's chair.  His big, 
warm palms were suddenly, gently, resting on her shoulder.  
This was not the kind of thing a doctor should do to a 
patient, Scully knew.  But she did not move.  

"Where were you when you were abducted?"

"I don't remember."

Mulder leaned down and whispered in her ear.  "I 
remember, Dana."

Her breath caught, and her heart rate sped up.  She felt a 
surge of adrenaline.  Mulder's hands on her shoulders 
applied a gentle pressure.  A warning -- keep still.  Don't 
talk.

Mulder moved around so that she could see him.  He held 
his index finger to his lips.  Scully nodded.

"Could it be," he said, "that you dreamed this odd 
displacement scenario while you were unconscious?"

Mulder nodded at her, his eyes telling her to agree.

"I suppose.  Yes."

"And could it be this abduction theory -- this confusion -- 
of yours is just some fantasy played out in your dreams and 
amplified by the trauma you experienced?"

She did not need him to coach her this time.  "Yes, it could 
very well be."

"You see, sometimes, after a stressful event such as the one 
you recently encountered, fantasy and reality can become 
clouded, the line of demarcation seemingly erased.  And 
the truth can seem muddied."  Mulder pointed at a small 
picture frame on his desk.

There, in the tarnished frame was a picture of his sister 
Samantha, still eight years old, smiling.  On the side of the 
frame, however, Scully could see with closer scrutiny that 
what at first appeared to be part of the design, was actually 
a tiny listening device.  She nodded.

"I see.  So this feeling of unreality is in all probability 
brought on by stress."

"Exactly," Mulder said with a smile. "Your confusion will 
dissipate eventually.  If you take it easy and take care of 
yourself."

Mulder reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small 
paper pad, then grabbed a pen.  "I'm going to write you a 
prescription.  This will help you sleep.  Sleep is, after all, 
the best medicine."

He ripped the page from the pad and handed it to Scully.  
"Don't lose that," he said.

Scully looked down at the page.  Instead of the unreadable 
scribble she associated with doctors' prescriptions, she saw, 
written in Mulder's oddly familiar scrawl, "Tonight, 11:00, 
Walt's."

Walt's meant nothing to her, but she knew she would find 
it.  Scully nodded and stood up.

"Thank you for seeing me Doctor Mulder.  I feel much 
better."

"That's what I'm here for."

As Scully turned to leave, Mulder reached out and took her 
hand.  He squeezed it and gave her a smile.  She returned 
the smile.  Hope was rekindled.


*    *    *

Pendrell was waiting outside the door for Scully.  She eyed 
him suspiciously.  What had he heard?

"All is well, I take it?" he asked after saluting.

"Yes.  I'm fine."

"Did Doctor Mulder give you a prescription?"

Her heart skipped.  To lie, or to tell the truth?

"Yes, he did."

"I can take care of it for you."

"No.  I'll do it."

"It's my job."

"Not today, Pendrell."

"Then allow me-"  Pendrell pulled a small cigarette 
lighter from his pocket and passed it to her.

Scully understood.  She took the cigarette lighter from him, 
then set fire to the piece of paper.  She let go and watched 
as black ash blew away.


*     *     *

Walt's, according to Pendrell, "is a dive, one of the only 
places around for miles that still serves alcohol.  You won't 
find many Colonizers there, either.  Apparently the owner 
has enough clout to say who gets in and who doesn't, and 
for some odd reason, the Colonizers respect that.  Maybe 
once you see it again, you'll remember it."

"Maybe," Scully echoed as she rode along next to Pendrell 
in the Hummer.  It was dark, darker than she ever 
remembered night on earth being.  The Colonizers had 
declared curfews to cut down on resistance activities.  In 
going through her files earlier, to try to determine just what 
she was supposed to do in her capacity as Sub-commander, 
Scully found it was her job to battle the Resistance and 
report directly to the Colonizers.  

She also found that she had given the order for the 
imprisonment, interrogation, torture and deaths of over 200 
men and women.  The realization made her physically sick.  
This was not a world to which she wanted to belong.

The Colonizers, for the most part, looked human.  But they 
were alien through and through.  Not alien; she 
remembered.  The use of the word alien as it referred to the 
Colonizers was strictly forbidden.  Any officer or 
subordinate caught using that word, even in jest, would be 
subject to court martial, and court martial meant execution.  
The Colonizers did not recognize the human concept of 
mercy.

So many bits and pieces of memory of this existence were 
flowing back that Scully was finally beginning to believe 
the images of herself and Mulder, black trench coats, dark 
alleys and a cluttered office were the dream.  Even snippets 
of disjointed conversations began to fade the more she 
thought about them-(/I wouldn't put myself on the line for 
anyone but you, Mulder/ /After all you've seen-/ /I say we 
don't let him waste another minute of our time/ /Do you 
think I'm Spooky?/ /Time is a universal invariant/).

The Hummer came to a stop and Pendrell turned to her.  
"This is it."

Scully looked out the window.  It looked like one of many 
old buildings standing like wounded soldiers along the 
filthy deserted street.  There were no neon signs or glowing 
chalkboards announcing the night's special.  Just the sound 
of old blues music on a tinny radio.  The Colonizers had 
outlawed almost all forms of music, but for some reason 
they like the blues.  Go figure, Scully thought.

The place was dark and dingy, and smelled of old cheap 
beer and cigarettes.  There were only a half dozen or so 
individuals in the place, all of them officers of 
sub-commander rank and slightly higher, relaxing with a 
draught and chatting.  Eyes turned to her as she walked to 
the bar, but they soon turned away, uninterested.  She didn't 
know whether to be relieved or ticked off.  She chose to 
dismiss it, and sat at the bar.

The bartender turned around with a mug of beer for her.  
He was a big man, broad across the chest.  He wore glasses 
and a scowl that most might interpret as unfriendly at first.  
Beads of sweat had gathered on his balding pate.  The 
scowl turned to a half smile.  

"Scully."

"Sir!"

"Sir?"  He laughed.  "What happened to 'Walt?'"

Memories began flooding back again.  Sitting before him, 
his discomforting scrutiny, pages and pages of reports.  
/Inconclusive, sir-/ /The evidence was destroyed, sir-/ /I 
can neither confirm nor deny Agent Mulder's 
claim-././Unofficial channels-/-.

Scully felt the floor tilt.  The air was suddenly sucked out 
of the room, and then lights went off.

*    *     *

ALLEGIANCE (2/3)

by

Lacadiva

Please see disclaimer in part 1.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3rd and Western Avenue
Los Angeles, California
9:53 pm


She could hear sirens, not very loud at first, but growing 
louder.  Someone was shouting, running.  "Agents down!" 
she could hear, but could not figure out what they were 
talking about.  She saw someone laying next to her.  He 
was doubled over in a fetal position, a strangled sound 
coming from him.  Mulder.  It was Mulder!  He was calling 
her.  A wet, scarlet hand reached out to her, grabbing her 
own hand.  She wasn't sure, but it sounded like he was 
crying.  She strained to clear her vision.

"Mulder!"  She felt her lips move, but didn't hear anything 
come out.  She tried to rise -- she wanted to help him.  And 
then the pain hit her.  Her face contorted, teeth grinding.  
"Mulder!"  She heard herself call him that time.  And then 
it was as if someone had covered her face with a dark 
warm blanket.

/I'm not dead yet-I'm not dead yet-.I'm not dead yet-./


*    *    *


The first face she saw was Walter Skinner's.  "Feeling 
better?"

"I think so.  What happened?"

"You passed out on my bar.  I brought you back here to the 
storeroom.  Wouldn't want anyone to think there's 
something wrong with my stock."

Scully sat up on the broken, mildewed couch and look 
around.  Nothing but dark shadows and old kegs.  "Where's 
Mulder?"

"Right here," came a familiar voice out of the shadows.

Mulder stepped into the meager light of the storeroom.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Skinner said, standing and 
backing out of the room.  "I'm right outside the door if you 
need me."

The moment Skinner disappeared, Mulder scooped Scully 
into his arms.  He held her so tight she could barely 
breathe.  Scully didn't mind.  She dug her fingers into his 
back.  

Finally, she pulled away.  "Mulder, what's happening?  
What's real?  I'm losing my mind!  One minute I believe I'm 
who I am and then the next -- Am I crazy, Mulder?"

"Sssshhhh."  Mulder stroked her auburn hair.  "No, you're 
not crazy.  It was the same with me.  I was here and I knew 
who I was and what I was, but I kept having these strong 
memories.  Stronger than memories.  Flashbacks.  I could 
feel it, I was a part of it.  But the Fox Mulder I could have 
sworn I was by their accounts never existed.  Which of 
course --"

"-- made you all the more suspicious."

"Exactly.  The more I dug into this memory, the more I 
uncovered.  They messed with our minds, Scully."

"The Colonizers?"  Scully sat back down, letting the 
realization seep in.  How much tinkering with her brain had 
they done?  What was she forgetting?  What was fact and 
what was fiction?  Were her memories of Mulder real, or 
simply manufactured data, created by the Colonizers?  Her 
head began to pound.

"How do we know what we know, Mulder?  How do we 
know if it's real?  If any of THIS is real?"

"I don't' know, Scully.  But I'm pretty certain name is Fox 
William Mulder.  I was an agent for the FBI.  So were you. 
And somehow they did something to us to make us forget.  
They abducted us, maybe kept us drugged until after The 
Day."

"Colonization?"

"Yes.  But then came the question of what to do with us."

"Why didn't they just kill us?"

"I asked myself that, too.  Somebody wanted us alive.  
Somebody obviously thought we were useful to The 
Project."

"Your father," she said as she rose on shaky legs and 
attempted a few steps.  "Maybe his connection to the 
Consortium long ago ensured your safety."

"I considered that.  But they had him killed, remember?  He 
couldn't have been that important to the equation."

"But apparently you are," said Scully, "and me, too.  If what 
you're saying is true, then somewhere along the line, 
somebody screwed up.  If our minds were played around 
with, if these memories were never supposed to resurface 
again, then somebody obviously fell asleep at the controls.  
I don't remember everything, Mulder, but I remember 
enough.  I-oh-"

Scully teetered again, dizziness threatening to send her to 
the floor.  Mulder caught her and eased her back down on 
the couch.

"It was the same with me at first," he said.  "When the 
memories of the past are strongest, the nausea would come, 
and the dizziness.  I figure it's probably a fail-safe built into 
whatever we were programmed with.  The more vivid the 
memory, the harder it is to remain conscious.  You actively 
avoid recalling your past."

"I think I'm going to be sick, Mulder."

Scully put her head between her knees and breathed deeply.  
Mulder gently rubbed her back, occasionally running his 
finger though her hair.  Eventually the nausea dissipated, 
and Scully sat up, looking slightly green, but still beautiful.

"Is it true, Mulder?" she asked in a quivering voice she 
barely recognized.  "Is it true that I had over two hundred 
innocent people murdered?  That I signed their death 
warrants?"

"No, you didn't.  The person they turned you into --  
Sub-commander Scully -- she's responsible for that."

"She is me, Mulder, the same person."

"No, not the same person.  That Scully was brutal, selfish, 
ambitious and vain."

"You really know how to sweet talk a girl, don't you?"

Mulder laughed.  "You are Dana Scully, my partner, and 
my friend."

"What about you?  What has the new you done?"

"You don't want to know."

"Tell me."

"No, Dana."

"Please.  How much worse can it be, Mulder?"

Mulder cleared his throat, looked away.  "I- I can't."

He tried to rise, but Scully wouldn't let him.  She took his 
hand and held it to her cheek.  

"Tell me."

"I will," he said, taking her hand and gently planting a kiss 
in her palm.  "Someday.  Right now, though, we have to get 
you back to the base."

"Why?  I've got rank.  No one seems to question my 
comings and goings."

"True, but no one is as powerful as the Colonizers, or their 
pet rats."

Scully saw a darkness in his eyes, a smoldering anger that 
gave her pause.  "Mulder, there's more you're not telling 
me."

"Scully, you're involved."

"In what?"

"Not 'in what'.  'With whom.'"

"Go on."

"Krycek."

"Krycek?  Alex Krycek?"

"You're married to him."


*    *     *

She didn't believe it, not a first.  Didn't want to believe it.  
The Krycek she believed she remembered was a horrible 
excuse for a Homo sapien.  A traitor, a liar, a murderer.  In 
this reality, he had to be the worst monster.  Why would 
she be yoked with a man like Krycek?

Pendrell's eyes darted from the road to Scully every few 
moments.  Scully wanted to pick his brain for information, 
but she wasn't sure how far she could go, or how far she 
could trust him.  She decided to start simple, and let him 
offer the information.

"So, it appears my husband is missing in action."

Pendrell didn't bite at first.  She saw a darkness overtake 
his expression, just as it did with Mulder upon the mention 
of Alex Krycek.

"I believe he's due back tomorrow."

"I can see," said Scully, "that you're not one of his biggest 
fans."

"I meant no disrespect, Sub-commander.  Commander 
Krycek is a considered a hero.  He single-handedly saved 
the Project from the hands of the Resistance."

"That's my Krycek."

Pendrell pulled over to the side of the road and turned to 
Scully.  "Sub-commander, may I speak freely?"

/I was hoping you would/, Scully thought.  "Please."

"Commander Krycek may be the best thing that ever 
happened to the Project, but he's the worse thing that ever 
happened to you.  How can you let him treat you the way 
he does?"

"Isn't that a bit overwrought?  You said it yourself.  He's a 
war hero.  Wouldn't do to divorce a war hero."

"But he doesn't love you.  Right now he's probably --"

"Probably what?"

Pendrell took a deep breath.

"I order you to finish what you were saying."

"He has women."

"You don't think I know that?"

"I wouldn't think you'd stand for it."

Scully smiled. "I don't."

"Then it's true.  You and Doctor Mulder --"

"Doctor Mulder is my friend."

"You should choose your friends more carefully.  People 
say Doctor Mulder is a mole for the Resistance."

A mole?  Of course he is, she thought.  Would he be 
Mulder if he wasn't making waves or making enemies?  
Would he stand still and allow the atrocities of the 
Colonizers to be perpetrated on mankind without striking 
back in some way?

"And what do you say?" she asked.

Pendrell stared at her for a long moment, as if she should 
have known the answer to that question.  Finally, he said, "I 
say people should keep their mouths shut."  Pendrell pulled 
back onto the road and continued driving in silence.


*    *     *

Pendrell dropped Scully off in front of her quarters.  He 
would not even wait for Scully to get inside before he 
pulled off into the darkness.  Scully shrugged, determined 
to find a way to make it up to him later.

She entered the dark quarters and instantly felt that odd 
familiar-yet-strange sensation she'd been feeling earlier.  
She knew where to find the light switch, and reached out 
for it.  Before she flicked it up, though, it occurred to her 
that she was not alone.

Light filled the cramped room, revealing it's drab, used 
furniture and lack of style.  It also illuminated the man 
standing by the window, his uniform tunic opened, 
revealing a pale but muscular frame, a glass of amber 
liquid in his true hand, the hand of his prosthetic limb 
covered by a black leather glove.

"Krycek!"

"What kind of greeting is that for a man who's been away 
for three weeks, risking his life and limb for the Project?"  
He extended his arm in an invitation to embrace.

Scully couldn't move.  Couldn't possibly allow him to touch 
her or come near her.  She couldn't fake it, not even if it 
meant her life.  She hated him in her previous life, she was 
sure.  No matter how scattered her memory she was certain 
beyond a doubt.  So why would she feel any differently 
about him in this life?

"Some things never change," Krycek said with a scowl and 
took a gulp.

"You weren't due back until tomorrow," she said, walking 
over to the couch.  She sat and decided to busy herself by 
removing her boots.  This action seemed natural, almost 
practiced.  She imagined this being a precursor to her 
evening ritual.

"Here, let me help you."

Krycek put his drink down and knelt before her.  He took 
her by the ankle.  With one hand he deftly pulled off one 
boot, then the other.

"I heard about your little ambush.  You look none the 
worse for wear."  He propped her left foot against his torso 
and began to massage it.

"Stop that."

"Ssshhhh."  Krycek kept rubbing. "How's that?"

"What do you want, Krycek?"

"Only to please my beautiful, powerful wife."

Scully tried to pull her foot away, but Krycek held on to her 
tighter.

"Come on, there was a time-"

"I honestly don't remember it."

"I know it's been a while, but I've been busy."

"With whom?"

"Are you implying that I'd cheat on you?"

"Yes."

Krycek let go of her foot and stood, retrieving his drink.  
"Well, what would you expect, seeing as I'm married to the 
Ice Princess of Company C."

Scully grabbed her boots and headed for the bedroom.  
Krycek quickly jumped in front of her and stood before the 
doorway.  Liquor spilled from his glass against the wall.  
He angrily threw the glass across the floor.

"Dana, please."

"Out of my way, Krycek."

"Dana!  Look, we got off on the wrong foot.  You didn't 
want to marry me, I didn't want to marry you, but it doesn't 
matter what we want.  You know the drill.  They say jump 
and we asking how high."

"It doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I know.  But if you could just-."  He ran a hand tenderly 
down her arm.  

"If you could just give me a chance.  I know I could make 
you happy."

"You can start by getting out of my way."

"It's HIM, isn't it?"

Scully's heart leapt into her throat.

Krycek grabbed Scully's arm and pinned it behind her back, 
then pulled her close.  She could feel the heat of his breath, 
smell the scotch.

"Let me go, Krycek!"

"It's HIM, that MULDER idiot isn't it.  You want to know 
what I heard about Mulder?  I heard he's the mole 
everybody's looking for.  You know what that means?  It 
means if you're caught fraternizing with a mole, you might 
as well be one yourself.  The Colonizers have no mercy 
when it comes to the Resistance.  You know that as well as 
I do."

"Krycek, you're paranoid.  Let me go."

"You stay away from him."

"If he's the mole, why haven't you turned him in?"

Krycek gave her a shove, then ambled back over to the 
liquor cabinet to pour him a fresh one.  "Just stay away 
from him.  He's tainted.  He's trouble.  It's just a matter of 
time.  Besides, we have important work to do, you and I.  
Word just came down from the grand pooba.  We have to 
have a baby."

"What?"

"A baby.  You know, they're small and smelly and keep you 
up all night.  They grow up to disappoint you and if you're 
lucky you'll die before they can try to kill you."  Krycek 
quickly downed the liquor and let out a satisfied growl, 
then poured another.

"It's impossible."

"That depends on your point of view."  Krycek wander 
back over by Scully, but kept his distance.  "There's only 
one point of view that matters, however.  The Colonizers'.  
They want you to conceive.  I don't know about you, pretty 
lady, but I'm happy to comply."

"Why?  Aren't they through experimenting with us?"

"Why don't you ask them.  I can't think of any reason this 
world needs any little red-headed Uber-Scullys running 
around, but then again, it ain't my plan."

"Well, they've pretty much ruined any chance of that.  I 
can't conceive."

Krycek reached into his pocket and pulled a tiny vial.  He 
held it up to the dim light.

"What's that?" asked Scully.

"An implant that can reverse your 'barren' condition."

"I will not submit to that."

"I'm sorry, did I give you the impression you had a choice?"

Scully backed away, heading for the door.  Krycek was on 
her in a second, whipping her around the face him.  Scully 
automatically reached for his face and dug fingers into his 
eyes.  Krycek screamed and pushed Scully against the wall.  
Then he hauled back with his prosthetic arm and swung at 
Scully.

She heard muffled crack and instantly the world went dark.

*     *      *

"AGENT SCULLY!  AGENT SCULLY!  Can you hear 
me?"

The ground was cold under her.  Gravel was biting into the 
back of her head.  The world above her, what little was in 
focus, was spinning.  Faces -- all strangers -- were over her, 
close, all with panicked expressions.  All seemed to be 
talking all at once, but she could barely hear them.  They 
kept calling her name.  Asking her questions.  Then 
someone started pulling at her clothes.  Cutting them away.  
What was happening?  Where was Mulder?  

"We got a pulse!  We need an airway!  Get her on the 
gurney!  On three-one, two, three-"

The world became dark and terribly silent again.


*     *     *

Scully woke up in Blevin's office again.  This time he sat 
across the room, writing at his desk.  She tried to sit up, but 
she could not.  She was weak, and groggy, but not enough 
to keep her flat on the table.  And then she realized she was 
in restraints.

"What is this about-"  Her speech was slurred.

Blevins rose and came to the examining table.  "Please, 
Sub-commander Scully, you must calm down."

"No!" she said, pulling against the restraints that held her 
wrist firmly to the table.

"You did it, didn't you!  You put that thing-- THAT 
IMPLANT -- in my body!  Why?"

"Please, calm yourself, or I'll have to sedate you."

"No!  I'm calm," she said, lowering her head back to the 
table, letting her voice become softer and lower.  "I'm calm.  
Doctor Blevins, please, I implore you, tell me what that 
thing was, what it's supposed to do."

"It won't hurt you, I can assure you."

"It doesn't belong there.  You have to remove it.  Please."

"I can't, Sub-commander Scully.  I have my orders.  Now, 
you must rest, or I will have to sedate you."

"Excuse me, Doctor Blevins," came a voice from across the 
room. Krycek's.  "May I speak to my wife in private?"

Blevins nodded and left.  She could hear Krycek as he 
crossed the room.  He appeared over her like a shadow.  
Scully could think of nothing but ways to kill this man, and 
how to prolong his agony in doing it.

"Feeling better, darling?" he asked with a nasty grin.  "I'm 
sorry I had to resort to brutality, but your cooperation was 
essential to my survival.  And yours.  Is there much pain?"

"Why would I think for a moment you would care?"

"I don't.  But having you suffer won't make this process 
work any better.  I'd get this over with right now, while 
you're in no position to fight me.  But you might be 
surprised to know that even I have my limits.  There's only 
so far I will go.  I still harbor the belief that we can do this 
and be friends.  The Doctor, however, says no physical 
contact for at least three days.  So I'll just have to dream 
about it, till then."  He knelt down to kiss Scully.  She spat 
in his face. 

Krycek merely smiled, and wiped his face on Scully's 
gown.  "Well, so much for being friends.  Have it your way 
Scully.  Bring him in."

Scully didn't know to whom he was referring until a guard 
entered the room, pushing Pendrell ahead of him.  

Pendrell's face was swollen and bruised, his eyes 
blackened, his lip split and bleeding.  He held his side, 
barely able to breathe.

"We got our mole."

"Pendrell?"

"No!" he chided Scully, then to Pendrell, "Tell her.  I want 
her to hear it from you.  And don't leave anything out."

Pendrell looked at Scully with deeply apologetic eyes.  He 
opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first.  The guard 
nudged him with the business end of his automatic weapon.  

"Mulder was arrested this morning.  He's in Prison Block 
D, awaiting execution."

Scully felt her heart racing, could feel her blood surging, 
pounding in  her ears.  

"Go on," teased Krycek.  Pendrell looked at him with 
defiant eyes, refusing to speak.  Pendrell would not.  "Then 
I'll finish the story. Fox Mulder was charged with sedition.  
He's being interrogated as we speak.  Now that's a party."

Scully felt her resolve wither into a prayer for death.  For 
Mulder, and for herself.

"What do you want, Krycek?  What do you want to let 
Mulder and Pendrell go?"

"What?  No mention of yourself?  My little sacrificial lamb.  
Wait.  It gets better.  Tell her the other thing, Pendrell.  Go 
on."

Pendrell's lips drew tightly as he looked down, ashamed, 
embarrassed.  

"TELL HER!"

"I love you, Sub-commander.  I always have."  Pride found 
its way back into his voice along with the courage to look 
Scully in the eyes.  "And I always will."

"Ain't that sweet?" sang Krycek.  "What do you think about 
that, wife?  As your husband, I think I should be a little 
jealous, don't you?"

Krycek pulled out his service weapon and aimed it at 
Pendrell's head.  

"NO!"

Panic twisted Pendrell's face.  "MULDER'S NOT THE 
MOLE IT'S --"

The sound of gunfire left Scully's ears ringing.  Her eyes 
were shut so tightly she thought she would have to pry 
them open.  /I would die for you/, he had said.  

"KRYCEK!  NO."  She was surprised by how weak her 
own voice sounded, despite the fury she felt.  She pulled 
against the bindings around her wrists, feeling them cut 
into her skin.

Krycek gestured to the guard to get rid of the body.  The 
bulky guard dragged Pendrell's bleeding corpse away, 
leaving a long red streak on the off-white floor.

"I just saved your life, Mrs. Krycek, and you don't even 
realize it.  As usual, Alex Krycek is cast as the bad guy.  
You'll understand someday, when your memory returns.  
You see, that little bullet wound of your seems to have 
erased a few interesting details from your hard drive, but 
you'd be surprised the kinds of thing you reveal when your 
under the influence of Doc Blevin's drugs.  You told me 
things that-well, let's just say you know more than you 
think you know.  And you'd be sharing a cell with your 
beloved Mulder if that information got out.  I just snuffed 
the only person who knew the truth.  Other than me of 
course.  But I promise you, know one will ever know.  That 
is, if you promise never to be a bad girl again."

"He said Mulder's not the moke, that he's innocent!"

"None of us are innocent, my sweet Dana.  All our hands 
are tainted with the blood of others.  It's just a matter of 
playing the game, and who has the most toys.  Right now, I 
have Mulder.  I know he's not the mole, but what the hell, I 
can dangle him like a carrot in front of you the rest of your 
life.  So it comes to this:  You play the role of the sweet, 
loving, obedient wife for me, and I'll keep Mulder alive."

"Krycek, I will do whatever you say, say whatever you 
want, if you let Mulder go."

"He means that much to you?  I believe I AM jealous now.  
But I'm in a merciful mood.  And even though I know you 
won't believe it, Mrs. Krycek, I do feel something for you.  
Maybe I can do something to save him from the 
executioner's block, for you."

"You'll let him go?"

"That's not what I said.  He'll stay in prison until I'm 
positive you're a team player, and you're not playing both 
sides of the field.  Step on a crack, I'll break Mulder's back.  
Step on the line, I'll personally snap his spine."

"I'll play your game."

"I knew you were smart.  Who knows, you might wake up 
one morning and decide I'm not half bad."

"Don't count on it."

"As a sort of-baby shower gift-I suppose I could lobby 
to have Mulder placed in a re-education camp.  Death or 
re-ed.  Hard to say which is worse, know what I mean?  But 
some camps are worse than others.  There's one in Arizona 
that's been called Club Med compared to places I've seen.  I 
can have him sent there on a two-year plan.  He won't be 
the same man coming out as going in, but he'll always be 
Mulder to me."

Krycek moved closer, so that Scully could feel his hot 
breath against her ear.  "Maybe I can make this a little 
easier for you, Dana.  Tell you a little something about your 
precious Mulder you should know, before you make plans 
for your future."

Krycek took a file from Blevin's desk and dropped it on 
Scully's midsection.  "He's not the little savior-dude he 
makes out to be." He unsnapped both wrist restraints, then 
the ankle restraints.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Sit up, see for yourself."

Scully thought she would pass out as she fought to sit up.  
Once up, however, the room stopped spinning.  She saw the 
name on the file.  SCULLY, MARGARET A.  Next to the 
name was a red stamp -- CLOSED.

"My mother-.  What are you doing with this?"

"Open it, " Krycek said.  As she did, Krycek continued.  
"Poor thing.  She was half out of her mind.  She didn't take 
too well to re-ed.  So it was the recommendation of the 
chief psychological officer responsible for her re-ed that 
Margaret Scully be put out of her misery.  Death by lethal 
injection.  I heard they go pretty quickly, but not 
completely painlessly."

Scully felt a lump the size of a fist in her throat.  Her ears 
began to ring.  She saw the signature at the bottom of the 
page.  FW Mulder.  Fox Mulder.  Mulder had administered 
the injection himself.

"This is a lie," she said through clenched teeth.

"I wish it were, Scully.  But it isn't.  You could ask him, if 
you want."

"I want."


*    *    *

Cellblock D smelled of death.  Many times the tortured 
prisoners awaiting execution expired during their wait.  
Many times they found ways to take their own lives, put 
themselves out of their misery, thus saving the Project time 
and money in carrying out execution orders.

Dana Scully walked the corridor to cell D42-1013.  What 
she found made her shudder.  

Mulder lay on the floor huddled in a fetal position.  Dried 
blood was encrusted around his lips and nose.  His hands 
were bruised, as if smashed during a rather arduous torture 
session.  His feet were bare, and red-raw on the bottom.

"Mulder?"

He stirred.  Swollen eyes looked up and found Scully's 
face.  He tried to speak, but his voice was raw, no doubt 
from screaming.

"Did you sign the execution order for my mother?"

Mulder said nothing, could not say anything, but began to 
tremble.

"Did you kill her?  I have to know."

Mulder looked away, ashamed, afraid.  He nodded once; 
just the slight tilt of the head.

Scully turned and walked away, boot heels echoing down 
the cold concrete corridor.


*     *     *

ALLEGIANCE (3/3)

by

Lacadiva

See disclaimer in part 1.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ALLEGIANCE (3/3)

by 

Lacadiva

"Good evening, Walt."

Walter Skinner looked up from the book he was reading 
and offered Scully a smile.  "Twice in one week.  I must be 
getting luckier."

"I don't know about that."

"What can I get you?"

"How about a coffee?  And some information."

"I'm not an informant.  Not anymore."

Skinner placed a steaming mug before Scully, then poured 
himself a cup.  He noticed the deep circles under Scully's 
eyes, the paleness of her complexion, and the slightly 
drooping posture that made her look shorter than usual.  
Mulder's imprisonment, no doubt, had gotten to her.

"I'm curious," she began.  "How is it this place isn't bugged?  
Or is it?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I just want to make sure I can talk freely."

"About?"

"Mulder.  I don't understand how all the pieces fit, and I 
was hoping you'd help me.  You're close to Mulder.  He 
must have told you; my memory is trying to reassert itself."

"He mentioned it in passing.  For your information, I have 
this place swept three times a day.  And I have jamming 
devices for the ones I miss."

"Who's the mole?"

"Mole?"

"The spy?  It's not Mulder."

"What makes you think I know?"

"Just a feeling I get.  Somebody around here has to know 
the truth."

"And you think that somebody's me?  What about you, 
Scully?  Where do you stand on the truth?"

"I would for once like to recognize it when I hear it.  
Krycek told me-he showed me a file.  Mulder had my 
mother executed.  Is it true?"

"Yes."

Scully looked down at her hands folded on the bar.  One 
tear streaked down her cheek and fell on her thumb.

"She would have died a far more miserable death, wasting 
away in re-ed.  That's just my opinion.  Besides, someone 
of a higher rank had to approve that order."

"You're saying I knew?"

"You were both different people."

Skinner passed her a white cocktail napkin.  She gently 
blew her nose.  

"Krycek is using Mulder to get me to submit to conceiving 
a child with him at the behest of the Colonizers.  
Apparently they want --"

"You can't do that."

"I know, but --"

"No, Scully.  You can't.  If you do, you're dead.  I don't 
know everything they did to you -- the tests -- but I know 
enough to know that any progeny of yours won't be human.  
They won't even need you to bring it to full term.  They'll 
take it and discard you like last night's trash."

"I have no intention of going through with it.  I want to help 
Mulder to escape.  And I want the Resistance to help me.  
Will you contact them for me?"

"I can't help you, Scully."

"Please, sir-"

"Don't call me that."

"What?  Sir?  That's what I used to call you.  You were in 
authority over me.  I don't remember it clearly but you 
were, yet we were somehow friends. And you remember it 
too.  Don't you?"

"I remember because my memory was never wiped.  I'm 
one of the few they left intact, able to remember the 
whole, sordid tale."

"Then help me!  Tell me who I am!  Tell me who we were!  
Tell me how I can save Mulder!  Please, sir!  Would you 
have let Mulder be sacrificed then?  Something in me tells 
me that he would put his life on the line for you or for me 
without giving it a thought..  I'm sure of it!  I remember you 
risked your own life and career on more occasions than one 
for him.  How is now any different?"

"The stakes are a little higher."

"Then what will it take, sir?""

"Don't!"  Skinner drew a deep breath and stared Scully 
down.  "This place may not be bugged, but a Colonizer 
could walk in at any minute!"

"The Resistance!  I want in."

"You already are."

"But I -- "

"You're the mole, Scully."


*    *    *


They sat waiting in Scully's Hummer outside an abandoned 
U-Lock storage facility on the outskirts of town.  They 
were told someone would come to escort them inside.

While they waited, Skinner told her everything he knew, 
which was enough to immerse Scully in more confusion.  
Mulder was never the mole -- at least officially.  He did 
however do whatever he could to sabotage the Project from 
within.  But it was Scully who provided the Resistance with 
information, such as where the convoy would be when the 
ambush occurred that left her wounded with a grazed 
temple.  Now she realized why she was the only survivor.

"Playing both sides of the playing field.  That's what 
Krycek called it.  And that's how you've been able to 
survive," she said.  

"It isn't the most level playing field we've ever 
encountered."

At that moment, the corrugated metal door was wrenched 
open.  The Bounty Hunter gestured them inside with a 
slight tilt of the head.

"No."  The word escaped Scully's lips before she could stop 
it.  She reached for her gun.  "You set me up!"

"Will you relax, Scully!  He's one of us."

"How do you know he's not one of them?"

"If he doesn't break your neck when you step inside, you're 
safe."

With that Skinner hopped out of the hummer and headed 
for the door.  The Bounty Hunter pulled back a slab of 
metal to make his access easier.  Scully put her gun away 
and followed.

They walked down the darkened, smelly hall, dodging rats, 
garbage and the remains of other people's belongings that 
had not been looted during the riots that followed the first 
Days.  She followed the Bounty Hunter at a safe distance, 
far enough away to make an escape if he should turn on 
them. 

Skinner stopped to allow Scully to catch up with him.  
"You can relax, Scully, you're in resistance territory now."

"He's in the Resistance?" she asked, gesturing at the Bounty 
Hunter.

"Not exactly.  He works for one of the many players who 
help keep the Colonizers off our backs, however."

"Who?"

They stopped at a door that read 'employees only'.

"The same power that keeps you busy rolling tanks over 
innocent people."

The Bounty Hunter opened the door and stepped out of the 
way.  Cigarette smoke assaulted Scully's sinuses.  Sitting at 
a desk, surrounded by a blue-gray cloud was the Cigarette 
Smoking Man.

"Keeps the game interesting, don't you agree, 
Sub-Commander Scully?" the CSM asked as twin streams 
of smoke blew out of his nostrils.  "I want to be on the 
winning team.  Don't you?"

"Not if it means I have to sacrifice everyone to ensure my 
own survival," Scully said with a hiss.

"Not every one.  I like you.  You were my favorite convert.  
That's the only reason you've been allowed to continue 
playing the game.  I liked Mulder, too, but it seems his fate 
has been sealed."  He stamped his cigarette out, and shook 
another from the crumpled pack.

"No," said Scully.  "Not if you intervene.  You have the 
power to help him."

"Why should I?"

"Because you'll have me in your hip pocket."

Skinner grabbed Scully's elbow and leaned down to 
whisper in her ear.  "Don't make deals with the devil.  You 
can't afford the price."

The CSM's smile looked like a cobra's face moments 
before striking.  He lit the fresh cigarette and took a deep 
drag.

"I don't care," said Scully, pulling away from Skinner and 
turned back to the CSM.  "I need your help.  And the help 
of the Resistance."

"Mulder isn't important enough to call in such a favor."

"So I'll owe them.  I can't let him die.  It should be me in 
that cell."

"Don't be a martyr, Sub-Commander Scully."

"I'm not trying to be a martyr!  What will it take?"

"A small favor in return."

"Tell me."

The Cigarette Man looked to Skinner to set the terms of the 
agreement.  Skinner ran a hand over his bald head and felt 
sweat.  "Kill Krycek."

She smiled slightly.  "Consider it done."


*    *    *

Scully sat in Blevin's empty office staring at the examining 
table.  She had the table draped with fresh paper and had 
lined up instruments, antibiotic cleansers and bandages, 
waiting for her patient to arrive.  She had used her internal 
influence to arrange for Mulder's trip to the infirmary, 
when Blevins would be conveniently on duty at one of the 
other two Colonizer bases where he patched up the 
wounded.

There was a knock, and then a guard entered to make sure 
the room was secured.  Two more guards, half- carrying 
Mulder's broken body, lifted him onto the examining table.  
Two guards left, one remained.

"You can leave, too, if you like.  This patient's too banged 
up to be a threat.  If he makes a move, I'll shoot him."

"Yes, Sub-commander."  The guard left.  

She then reached out to touch Mulder's swollen and 
bloodied hands.  He pulled them away quickly.

"I don't want to hurt you, Mulder.  I only told him I'd shoot 
you so he would leave.  Let me see your hands."

Mulder allowed her to look at them, to touch them.  

"No broken bones," she said, the clinician in her taking 
over.  "But they're going to be pretty sore for a while.

She picked up shears and began cutting Mulder's sweat and 
blood stained shirt away from him.  She flinched and 
looked away when she saw the severity of the bruises.  
Deep, dark splotches covered his entire torso.  She shifted 
him to one side to pull the remains of the shirt from under 
him.  Mulder cried out in pain, tensing, trying to curl into a 
protective ball.  Scully found even more bruises and deep 
cuts crusted with dried blood across his back.

"They're running out of places to beat you," she said. 

"So now it's your turn?"

"Mulder, no.  I want to help you."  She began dabbing away 
dried patches of blood, probing the open wounds to find 
out how deep they were.  "I don't think you'll need stitches.  
I've arranged to have you stay here in the infirmary for a 
day or two, where I can keep an eye on you.  And no one 
will be able to interrogate you.  Why didn't you tell them 
I'm the mole, Mulder?"

He winced, sucking air loudly between this clenched teeth 
as Scully dabbed at another wound, and doused it with 
antiseptic.

"Why didn't you tell them?" Mulder asked.

"Touche.  First, because my faulty memory conveniently 
allowed me to forget.  Skinner had to fill me in.  Secondly, 
because I realized if I'd told them, I'd be sitting in jail with 
you.  With my sub-c status intact, I could at least arrange 
for your comfort."

"Patch me up then spit me back out for more interrogating 
before the execution."

"No, not if I can help it.  There won't be any execution.  I've 
cut a couple of deals."

"With your husband?"

"With him, and someone else.  And stop calling him that."

"And you believe your hus-- Krycek, will honor his end of 
the deal?  What's he want?"

"You don't need to know."

"Tell me."

"It doesn't matter, Mulder.  Now hold still."

"Tell me!"

"He wants a child, Mulder.  The Colonizers have ordered 
it."

Mulder tried to rise. 

"Where are you going?"

"Back to D-Block.  Guard!"

"Mulder, don't be ridiculous."

"You chose your side.  I've chosen mine."

"I'm on your side, Mulder.  I choose you.  I have no 
intention of honoring my end of the bargain.  I'd sooner rot 
in hell than let Krycek lay a hand on me.  Now please, lie 
back and let me help you."

Mulder was an inch from passing out.  He lay back down 
on the examining table and closed his eyes against the 
swimming sensation inside his head.

"Since when did 'trust no one' include me, Mulder?"

"I'm sorry," he said.  "It hasn't been a good day."

They sat in silence for a moment.  Mulder simply stared at 
her face, intrigued by how she scowled slightly in 
professional concentration as she slowly wrapped Mulder's 
hands in gauze.  

"I didn't know her then," he said.  

"What are you talking about, Mulder?"

"You mother.  Maggie." 

Scully wondered if he saw her wince at the sound of her 
mother's name.  

He continued.  "I wasn't who I am now.  When I realized 
later what I'd done, to her, to you -- "

"I know."

"If I'd known, I would have done anything to protect her.  
For you."

"I know, Mulder."

"I'm sorry, Scully.  I should have told you.  I couldn't."

"There's something else I should tell you.  The 
Resistance--"

Before she could finish, a Guard entered, a different one, 
followed by a Colonizer -- the one Scully had dubbed the 
Bounty Hunter.  No, not the same one, she noticed.  
Thought he looked just like all the rest, the insignia on his 
uniform indicated a lower rank.  /A bad clone batch, no 
doubt/ she thought.  Scully felt her heart rate pick up, but 
continued wrapping Mulder's hands and fought to keep a 
poker face.

"Don't you generally knock before entering a room?" she 
asked.

"I have orders to deliver."

"I'm listening."

"I've come to tell you that Prisoner Mulder's transfer to 
Re-ed is scheduled for oh-six-hundred tomorrow morning."

Scully froze and looked Mulder in the eye.  She had hoped 
she'd have more time with him.  She thought she could 
shield him from further harm.  But then she remembered 
her deal was made with Krycek.  She resumed wrapping his 
hand, and prayed none of them -- especially Mulder -- 
noticed that her own hands were shaking.

Neither the guard nor the Colonizer made a move toward 
the door.  "You've delivered your message.  You may go 
now."

"Unfortunately, Sub-commander, there is some concern 
from Commander Krycek that the prisoner may attempt an 
escape.  We are under orders to escort him back to cell 
block D immediately."

"Sure, fine, whatever," Scully murmured, hoping to sound 
nonchalant.  Looking directly at Mulder, she asked, "Do 
you have a last request before your transfer?  Maybe I can 
get a letter to somebody.  Family member, or a friend.  
Perhaps your friend, George Hale, should know."

Mulder looked at Scully and could have sworn he saw a 
twinkle in her eyes.  George Hale.  The name sounded 
familiar.  

"George would want to be there for you, to say goodbye.  
I'll make sure he knows, and that he's there in the morning.  
Do you understand?"

Scully stepped back and Mulder tried painfully to climb off 
the examining table.  The guard moved forward to pull 
Mulder down, and slung one of Mulder's arms over his 
shoulder.  Mulder wince and held back the urge to cry out.  
As they walked by Scully, she gave him one last look and 
what Mulder could have sworn was a smile as she walked 
out.

For the first time since his imprisonment and for reasons 
that were not yet clear, Mulder felt a sense of hope.


*    *    *

It was still dark, thought a thin sense of light was 
burgeoning in the skies.

Two hummers and two motorcycle-riding guards flanked 
the truck that carried Mulder to the train that would 
transport him and several hundred other prisoners to Re-ed.  
No doubt Krycek had ordered the showy extra security just 
to keep Scully in line.

Scully rode along in a hummer, a new driver at her side.  
She sent a silent prayer on Pendrell's behalf and also prayed 
that her hand would be steady when she aimed her 
automatic weapon at Krycek's face.  IF he ever showed up.

The transport convoy had to leave without Krycek.  Word 
came down that he had been called away on more 
important Colonizer business.  Scully was worried at first, 
but vowed that one way or another the s.o.b. would die 
sometime before the sun went down this day.  She hoped 
that the promise made by Skinner and the Cigarette Man 
would be kept.  Mulder's life depended on it.  Her life 
depended on it, too.

The hummer began to slow.  Scully looked up and noticed 
all the vehicles had their break lights on.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked.  Was this it?

"Uncertain, Sub-commander.  Hang on.  I'll check."

The driver killed the engine and stepped out of the 
hummer.  Scully watched as he walked up to the vehicle in 
front of them.

One loud gunshot rang out.  Scully could not hold back her 
gasp when she saw a piece of the Driver's head fly away in 
a bloody chunk and realized he had been shot by a sniper.

She reached for her weapon.  Then she heard the side 
window of the hummer being smashed in.  She turned and 
found herself looking down the barrel of a rather large 
semi-automatic weapon.  Suddenly the entire road was 
filled with men and women with similar weapons, all 
dressed in khaki green and camouflage uniforms from days 
of old, all with faces painted covered, until the entire 
convoy was surrounded.

No one waited for orders to fire.  The next shot came from 
somewhere behind Scully's hummer. Before she could duck 
or return fire, a fist crashed through the remaining glass in 
the window and grabbed her by the hair. 

"GET OUT!  GET OUT!" the Resistance rebel screamed.  
Scully opened the door as best she could with someone 
yanking her hair, and climbed out.  Her weapon flew out of 
her hand as she was thrown face down on the ground.

"Get your man out of there and get out of here!" the rebel 
demanded, then ran, ran off, laying down sporadic bursts of 
gunfire to cover her way.

Scully retrieved her gun and ran toward the truck that 
carried Mulder.  She reached for the latch, ducking and 
wincing as bullets flew all around her, hitting the truck, 
hitting the tires, striking mere inches from her face and 
body.

She cursed when she found that the truck was locked, and 
she didn't have the key.  The one who did was out there 
somewhere, participating in the battle.

"MULDER!" she cried, banging on the truck doors. 
"MULDER!  Can you hear me!"

She put her ear against the door and listed.  She could hear 
a muffled voice, and could hear him banging against the 
door.

"STAND AWAY!" she yelled, then took several steps back 
and aimed for the truck door latch.  She fired six times in 
succession and watched as pieces of the metal flew away, 
until the locking mechanism was destroyed.

Hope filled her heart as she raced to the doors and flung 
them opened.  Hope died when she looked inside.

Krycek was holding Mulder in a choke hold with his 
prosthetic arm, and a gun to his head.  "I just had to see for 
myself," he shouted, "how far my wife would go to snatch 
the man she loved from the jaws of death.  Unfortunately, 
you picked the wrong man."



*      *      *

ALLEGIANCE (3b/3)

by

Lacadiva

See disclaimer in part 1.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ALLEGIANCE (3b/3)


Scully's training -- FBI or Colonizer? -- took over.  She fell 
into a defensive stance and raised her gun at Krycek, 
aiming for the spot between his eyes.

"Shoot me," he said, "and you'll risk my finger moving just 
enough to pull the trigger and blow your lover's head off.  
That would be bad, considering all the trouble you went 
through to rescue him."

Scully noticed that the gunfire had ceased.  The rebels were 
retreating.  No, not retreating.  Leaving.  Scattered all over 
the road and the dried grass shoulder were all human 
officers -- dead, dying, bleeding.  Some crawling, trying to 
get away, others were crying out in pain.

"You did this, Scully," said Krycek.  "You killed every one 
of them."

"No," she said, steadying her gun.  "I didn't want it to 
happen this way.  I didn't know."

Krycek tightened his grip on Mulder and smiled as he 
winced in pain.  "You're not stupid!  You knew.  What did 
you think they'd do?  Walk up to us an humbly ask us to 
hand over Fox Mulder?  You think you're better than me, 
but you're not. At least I don't plead ignorance and go on 
my merry way.  Murder's murder."

"You knew all along I was the mole," Scully said.  

"Of course I knew you were the mole.  The interesting 
thing is, Scully, you were my mole."

"That can't be!  I spied on you.  I passed information to the 
resistance to thwart you!"

"Every piece of information you passed on, came directly 
from me."

"No."

"Game's finally over, Scully.  You lose.  Time for me to 
collect."

Krycek slammed Mulder hard into the side of the truck, 
then turned his gun on Scully and fired.

The slug tore into her thigh, forcing her down.  She hit the 
ground hard, a strangled scream forced from her throat.  
She held on to her own gun, but knew she would be too 
weak to use it.

Krycek took a few steps closer to the edge of the truck bed 
and aimed down at Scully, ready to finish the job.  "Plans 
have changed.  No more baby.  I want a divorce," he said 
with a smile.

"Happy to oblige," she said, weakly lifting her gun.  She 
knew it was futile.  She was loosing blood too quickly and 
loosing her ability to focus.  Shock was already setting in.

Suddenly Krycek came flying out of the truck with a shout.  
He didn't jump.  He was pushed.  Mulder had pushed him.

Mulder stood, leaning against the wall of the truck, a 
satisfied grin on his pained face, as Krycek hit the ground. 
Scully managed to smile. 

She heard a snap -- the sound of Krycek's prosthetic arm 
cracking into pieces as he hit the tarmac.  She would have 
laughed if it didn't hurt so badly.

Mulder climbed out of the truck and went to Krycek's 
prone body.  He kicked Krycek in the face so hard that 
Mulder fell backwards.  Krycek let out a cry, then 
scrambled to his feet to charge at Mulder.

Scully fired.

The bullet hit Krycek in the back.  Scully knew it must 
have torn through his shriveled heart.  Krycek turned and 
gave Scully a confused look.  "Why'd you --"

He hit the ground before he could finish.

Mulder and Scully scrambled toward each other.  Mulder 
did the best he could to help Scully to her feet and carry her 
away from the battleground.  Both knew that units were 
probably on their way to round up and execute the parties 
responsible for the ambush.  Both knew they would be as 
good as dead if they were found.

"Mulder!  I can't, my leg --"

Mulder moved to carry her, but Scully knew that would not 
last long, not in his beaten condition.  Mulder managed to 
get her off the ground, but could only carry her a few steps 
before his own legs gave out and he fell to his knees, his 
body threatening to shut down, feeling unconsciousness 
sneaking up on him.

"I'm sorry, Scully."

Mulder placed a hand on her bleeding wound and tried to 
put pressure on it.  Scully screamed out and held onto him.  
He stopped, knowing it was useless.  He wasn't a doctor, 
but he knew from his own experience that without 
immediate attention Scully would bleed to death before 
either of them could get away.  

Mulder stood and ran weakly for the hummer.  He jumped 
in, revved it, and pulled it out of the convoy line and drove 
it over to Scully.  He leaped out and went to her, his 
intention to lift her and put her inside and drive away.

He didn't get the chance.

From somewhere came the sound of gunfire.  Scully saw 
something red leap from Mulder's chest and felt warm 
blood splatter her face.  She recoiled, suppressing the urge 
to scream.

Mulder's face was neutral as he looked down at the gaping, 
bloody hole in his chest.  He collapsed to his knees, then hit 
the ground.  Pain registered then.  He let out a scream that 
made Scully's blood run cold.

"MULDER!  MULDER, NO!"

Scully looked up and saw Krycek.  He was lying on the 
ground, smiling, a gun in hand, smoke still rising from the 
barrel.  Scully brought her own gun up and fired again, this 
time hitting Krycek straight between the eyes.  He died 
instantly.  

"Mulder!"  Scully crawled over to him.  Forgetting the pain 
in her leg, she shoved her arms under Mulder's armpits and 
tried to lift the tall man and drag him.  She could hear 
helicopters over head and hear hummers heading their way.

"Come on, Mulder!  Help me!"

"No, Scully, don't move me.  DON'T MOVE ME!"

The last words came out in a gurgle.  She looked at 
Mulder's face and saw a torrent of blood erupt from his 
mouth, spilling down his chin and to his chest.  

"Don't move me," he begged.  "Please."

"I won't," was all she could say.  She sat down and cradled 
him in her arms, moving him as little as possible.  Each 
minute movement caused him to cry out. 

She could hear the Colonizers getting closer.  

"Mulder?"

"Not your fault.  My fault."

"No.  None of this was ever your fault.  I had a choice.  I 
made my choice and I stand by it."

"Me, too."

Scully felt the wind whipping her head, and looked up to 
see a 'copter hovering just above them.

"Throw your weapon aside!" came the amplified voice 
from the 'copter.  "You are under arrest."  Scully threw her 
gun as far away as she could, then wrapped her arms 
around Mulder again.

"Scully?"  His body seized up as if he'd been hit with an 
electrical shock.  A agonized groan escaped his lips, along 
with bubbling stream of blood and fluid.

She saw the hummers heading their way, filled with armed 
Colonizers and foot soldiers.  They had but a few seconds 
left.

"Scully!"

"Yes, I'm here."

"It's so cold."

"I know."  She held him tighter, closer.  "Is that better?"

"Yes," he lied.

The vehicles formed a semi-circle around them.  Soldiers 
with guns aimed and ready to fire jumped from the 
hummers and moved on them.

"Hold your fire," Scully cried out.  "Please.  I won't fight.  
I'll go peacefully.  Let me stay until the end.  Please."  

The Bounty Hunter stepped out of his hummer and took 
three steps forward.  Scully looked him dead in the eye.  

"Please," she said.

The Bounty Hunter nodded stoically.  The men and women 
in his charge relaxed, but kept their weapons trained on 
Scully.  

"Mulder?"

"Still here?  Shoulda ditched me, while you had the 
chance."

"With this bum leg?  I couldn't get very far."

"I can't stand-" he began, but a surge of pain and anger hit 
him.  He took a raspy deep breath and tried again.  "I can't 
stand the thought, they're going to execute you, because of 
me," he forced out and sank deeper into her arms, his last 
ounce of strength spent.

"I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone else but you."

"Oh, God, Scully, it hurts.  It HURTS."

"I know."   She held him tighter, and felt his body tense, 
then begin to shudder.

"Always thought I'd go out with a bang, not a whimper."

"Are you coming onto me, Mulder?" she asked tearfully.

Mulder tried to laugh, but it hurt too much.  "Don't let them 
take you.  Go fighting.  Fight the --"

Mulder could not finish.  He simply looked at her with 
those ever-changing hazel eyes.  Suddenly, the look of 
suffering disappeared from his face.  He simply smiled.  

And then he died.

Scully held him close and cried.

"Time to go," the Bounty Hunter said.  Guards lifted Scully 
to her feet.  She barely noticed the pain in her leg anymore.  
She allowed herself to be carried toward a hummer, then 
turned back to watch as two guards were lifting Mulder's 
body from the ground.

"NO!  YOU LET HIM GO!  YOU LET HIM GO!"

She twisted out of their hold and grabbed a hand gun from 
the holster of one of the guards escorting her.  

All guns trained on her her.

"Sub-Commander Scully!  Put down the weapon, or we 
will be forced to fire.  It does not have to end this way."

"But it does!" Scully cried.  "It does.  Not a whimper, but a 
bang," she said, then aimed at the Bounty Hunter.

Two dozen rifles went off all at once.


*    *    *

Cedar Sinai Hospital
Los Angeles, CA
4:35 am


She awoke gasping for air.  Instantly someone was at her 
side.  She opened her eyes and saw the face of Margaret 
Scully, tears spilling from her beautiful eyes.

"Welcome back, baby girl," she said.

"Mom?  You're here.  You're alive.  Where --"

"You're in the hospital.  You're still in Los Angeles.  I took 
the first flight I could get as soon as Fox called me."

"Mulder.  Mulder?  Where is he?"

"Right here."

Mulder appeared behind her mother.  He was wearing a 
hospital gown and robe, and his face was pale and drawn.  
He moved slowly, winced a bit when he attempted to sit on 
the bed, thought better of it and remained standing.

"You're alive.  Thank God.  What happened?"

"You don't remember?" he asked.  "We were ambushed.  
Our so-called snitch snitched on us.  They were waiting for 
us."

"Right," she said, remembering.  "I was shot."  She reached 
up to touch the thick gauze bandage wrapped around her 
head.  "How bad?"

"The bullet grazed your temple, but the fall you took was 
worse.  I thought -- nevermind."

"What about you, Mulder, are you okay?"

"I'm fine.  Bullet in the side, tore out a chunk of meat, but 
missed anything vital.  Good thing our suspect was a rotten 
marksman."

"Maybe.  Where's my uniform?

"Your uniform?"

Scully looked confused for a second.  "Oh, wait," she said, 
covering her face with her hands and taking in a deep 
breath.  "I had the most incredible dream."

"Yeah?  Was I in it?" Mulder asked.

"I don't remember.  It wasn't so much a dream as it was-."

"What?"

"Like walking between here and the afterlife.  It sounds 
foolish, I know, but I can't think of any other way to 
describe it."

"Sounds like an X-File."

"I'm sure it's not."

"That's enough, you two," Margaret Scully interjected.  She 
pushed Mulder aside, shooing him out of the room.  "You 
can tell him all about it later, Dana.  You need your rest, 
and so does he."  She turned to Mulder.  "Back to your 
room before the doctor finds out you're AWOL."

"I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Scully, but --"

"Fox, go."

"I better go," Mulder said, with a smile.  "I'll see you later.  
And don't ever scare me like that again."  

Scully reached out for Mulder's hand.  He leaned in and 
took hold.  Scully's grip was tight, almost desperate.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked.

Mulder nodded.  She finally let go.

Holding his side, Mulder opened the door, checked the hall 
for clearance from doctors and evil nurses, then ambled 
away.

Mrs. Scully took her daughter's hand, careful not to hit the 
IV needle and tubes, and kissed it gently.  "Fox was right.  
You gave us quite a scare."

"Sorry.  I'll be fine, Mom.  Mulder's going to be okay?"

"His doctor says he can go home day after tomorrow."

"Good."

"What did you dream about?"

"What?"

"You said you had a strange dream."

"Oh.  I don't-"  She blinked, and sighed.  "I don't 
remember now.  You know me. I never remember my 
dreams for long."

"You just rest, then, baby girl.  I'm right here if you need 
me."

"Thanks mom.  I'm glad you're here." 

"Me to."

Scully closed her eyes and slept without dreaming.


*    *    *

THE END

Please send your comments and/or gifts of chocolate to 
Lacadiva @ aol.com  Thanks for your kind attention.  Hope 
you dug it.
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